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Courthouse; Pigadia, Karpathos. Image courtesy of the author.

Not Enough

All my years, those years left to us to live honourably by those we have loved, whose years were amputated, taken from us before their time, I’d always heard the rumours.

I heard the broken words spoken about their lives, their achievements, even their idiosyncrasies, those peculiarities that love of family mellowed to a fine wine, in the casks of time and the coffins of the silenced. No matter their faults, no walking breathing soul should…




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R Tsambounieri Talarantas

R Tsambounieri Talarantas

In my spare time, I’ll be found at my favorite writing spot— where death surely cannot miss me. I’ve been censored... I do not tell—all.

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