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| Reviewed by Jansen Estrup |
11/7/2011 |
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| You describe a very interesting condition, Mr. Haar. I've wondered if all of us are born with it, but lose it in infancy or shortly afterward when language has to be learned in order to 'describe' it. Some few, like you, keep enough to give us gems like this "wind chariot that never arrives." Mystics perceived Nagini as serpent maidens drawing the chariot of goddess Amarici (the sun) out of darkness on rays of light - Thanks |
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| Reviewed by Axilea MU |
11/7/2011 |
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Beautiful! A fascinating juxtaposition of subjective impressions and bridges built between them by the mind.
Axilea |
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| Reviewed by Michelle Mead |
7/20/2011 |
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| I love your style. Well-written and original. |
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| Reviewed by Roger Wayne Eberle |
7/18/2011 |
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Aptly titled, dizzily visual little romp this. Stirred with circumspect equipoise til it is teased into a tempest of stillness. Oh, in case you haven't got the idea... it moved me.
Thank you, Debashish.
Roger |
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| Reviewed by jude forese |
7/17/2011 |
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| hey Debs, good to read you again... i always appreciated your vibrant and unorthodox imagery ... |
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| Reviewed by Gene Williamson |
7/17/2011 |
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The confusion of night is clarified (I think) in this
fascinating synestheic trip. Love the lines:
In the morning the sun tastes
like lemon tea,
and plays shadow dice during the day.
-gene. |
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| Reviewed by richard cederberg |
7/15/2011 |
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| Interesting Debashish. r |
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