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21 Invocation One plume of salt-spray thrown up by a rock-face, one pebble left on the shore where it lands. There is no end if there was no beginning, so help me to tell where this ending began, gathering women who touch, who honor, who loom traditions through the body of earth. Please lend me your voices, and some of our stories, to spiral this shell through the layers of sand. When it began, I was travelling in Oregon— ...

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