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So We Walked Back to Omelas (34)
a short story, by moi So we walked back to Omelas, we who’d been in the forest for some time. Some of us are very old, some of us are quite young. It was no small potatoes for any of us to go back “home”—-mostly because we liked our new home. Our real home. Our…
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art into the wind (33)
Hi, Stacey– I did something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I wrote a short story and distributed it anonymously in my neighborhood. I have a particular relationship with anonymity and my writing. I think my generation (millennials) have straddled such a bizarre line of invisible and/or visible our whole lives. We came of…