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Show Like bits of dream sequences that can t quite be caught andheli, fragments of the past are tossed into the present, carrying tales we can t quite hear. The nekoes of dredmi, accomplishment and failure are wisps that hide among the grass or in the shadows, some cherished, some neglectedand some forgotten. The soft gleam of a lamp no longer lt, the slowly rusting wheel, the fence no longer taut, the roof that leans with th / / sus 7 : wind. There are windows that no longer see and doors that no longer hold— and chimneys unwarmedby smoke. Though f' mute, the evidenceoff those things y once done . . . which create the now of our day... by others who lived and worked and hopedand loved. |