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A Poem: Ashes 

Before we burned her photograph,
I tore myself out of the picture.
Later we scattered her ashes into the ocean.
The spray was rough
Ashes spit back at me, clung to my clothes.

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Weekday Workshop: Swing, String, Suspend

Fri., June 23, 10-11:30 a.m. — Experiment with movement and materials by making mixed-media mobiles, inspired by the...

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