It's been more than a century since the ill-fated RMS Titanic hit an iceberg on her maiden voyage, falling to the Atlantic seabed where the hull still rests today. More than 1,500 died on 14 April 1912 making it one of the most tragic maritime disasters of all time. Yet their memory is kept alive, since its journey has been depicted in numerous works of popular culture, including books, folk songs, films, exhibits, and memorials.
The ships of state lay mucked afoul and in black water listing. A failed armada moored by ancient cable rubs against the wharf where Dead Roads end.
The originals of these two pages (numbered 192 and 193 on the recto and verso of a single sheet of ordinary paper)...
“I just want to get to Fort Kent to see the foliage,” Kenneth said with a lack of affect, and a stony facial expression.
Youth. The word flickered through my mind unexpectedly, violently, as I watched Magda cross the bridge and approach me, her open coat flying behind her.
Meadowthis, and -that, until | Windswept. All this:—what is, | if it can be, expected—love,
Whereas in some areas of Greece men can sing about the dead – mainly mythical accounts of the death of local heroes.
“Thus, I’m fighting for myself when I ask you to stop” said the last sentence of the letter. Drizzle and a thick layer of fog.
They call it Friends Group. But there are no friends, and there is no group. Just me, a state-funded Social Worker, and another sixth grader the kids call Sweaty Teddy.
It is from here that I send her all my love, | Addis to the source of the Nile | To the Bride of the Med
He calls her again: ‘I can’t stop thinking of you. I need to see you.’ And she incredulous but also vainly asks why, wanting to understand but also to be flattered.
She looked from the 9th floor in the cross street of Virrey del Pino and Superí, with a green tea in hand and barefoot.
At first I assumed it was the motion. | The stomach lurch as I felt my way | along flickering hallways | with dark wood cabinets.
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