The Wardrobe, revisited.

My dear Daughter, Eliot once wrote about measuring out life with coffee spoons. No average beverage for me. I have something better. I am a hoarder. I collect saris. They are not just clothes but motifs of my life. Six yards of splendor draping every memorable moment freezing it for all eternity. A dust-pink and …

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Black Magic Woman

Suddenly the clouds clear and you see all that is there.   Black magic woman. Prowling. Ensnaring the young and the unsuspecting. Mothers lock your sons away, for she is on the move.   Starry-eyed. All of nineteen. Then twenty. Soon twenty-one. Suddenly, a very old twenty-one.   No illusions left. Not anymore. Twenty-one. She …

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