Tag: Gregory O’Gara
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Metaphor, memory, and my grandmother’s hands
Gregory O’GaraNew Jersey, United States Sometimes when it rains, the droplets are barely perceptible. There is no fog or mist, no thunder, no presage. I sat outside looking upward. There was nothing discernable in the darkness of the sky except the absence of stars. If memories were like stars, they should last forever; but even…