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No distances too vast

By E. B. de Vito / February 11, 1981



How can I -- or any one -- stray far from what we were or what we are or disown the lifelong daisy chain that forges a link to what we think was left behind too far to find. Always a subtle nuance, trace, recalls a long-lost family face: no doubt the faces at this table so closely match those on the wall, they could replace them at a scene that, interchangeably the same, denied that there had ever been a flow of centuries between -- like Aunt Asunta shaping dough into cross-marked rounds still sometimes seen among artifacts of ancient Rome. There are no distances too vast to come back and not find the past Perched on the doorstep, whole and sound and patient as Ulysses' hound, that waits, sure of its rightful place, knowing not how, from where or when but certain you will come home again.

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