Where the Sidewalks Ended

Where the Sidewalks Ended

My mother and I were standing in the echoing salesroom of the feed store, one of those dusty, mom-and-pop sorts of places you’ll still find in the towns along Lake Superior. Mom was studying a stone urn we were holding between us, our arms wrapped around it in a...
Flames: The Life of a Writer

Flames: The Life of a Writer

I like quiet. I like to be alone. I enjoy a social gathering but afterwards need to shut my metaphorical doors and unwind. I like my privacy. This perhaps seems a strange claim, coming from someone who spends a good deal of her time excavating her life and sharing it...
Donna Salli - Seated - Color

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