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Framed They stand in a row, gathering dust, a clutter of frozen memories. Representing stages of the next generation. Funny how my generation, and those before, are relegated to an album in a cupboard. I see my children and my children’s children, gazing, gurgling, smiling out from behind the glass set to protect them from the dust. But what frame can I get to protect them from the world? © 2000 |
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