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Florence in Words

Memory, or how reading Iris Murdoch and Doris Lessing have made me think about it again

I am headed from the kitchen through the living room to the bedroom on a specific mission, but when I get there, I’ve forgotten why I came—just for a second—and then I remember that I want to pick up my iPhone which I had parked last night on its charger which rests atop a radio clock that stands on a table beside my bed. Is this occurrence ominous?  Read More 
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