Sometimes they can knock you out.
Voices from the past. Returned to you. And then just as suddenly stilled.
You didn’t know Olga Klibo, and that’s too bad. If you’d known her when I did, in the 1970s, and if you’d been a child too, as I was, you might have learned to love reading and books just as I did: by your weekly visits to the Buellton
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