| Vantage Point | Culture and Politics by Don Hynes |
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January 16, 2005 Whispers of the Unborn The morning air is warm, wet with fog, the occasional bus or garbage truck breaking the stillness. This is the time to let contemplation rise before the sun of activity. The unborn seek this world with a fearful sweetness, older than our recurring Babylon. Untamed by our violence they visit with the mist, more transparent than visible, whispering as they evaporate in the first light: “renew, renew, the oldest of your dreams are still young.” *** |
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