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A Love Song H PARINAZ ELEISH Peninsula, peninsula, a word blue, green, gold. My father collecting pink seashells. A student of natural sciences, he fed me seaweed and bread. Smoke coiling out of the old chimney into the dusk that lingered. A peninsula, and everything I tell you is true. The old man that fished a fish as large and pink as our house, the little boy who spoke the seagull-tongue, and you in my eyes. My eyes full of your face. A LOVE SONG 101 ...

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