Another Day.

He wakes up. Somewhere in the night an hour disappeared. It will be held, lying in state, until the end of the year until, without explanation, it will be returned. He is exhausted and his eyes ache. He watches the celebrations in Selma and wonders whether they will change the name of the Edmund Pettus Bridge or if it should be kept as a reminder of how close we all are to the KKK as a reminder…

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The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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