United New Internationalists

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60 Ab'ram

It was a cold, dark, chilling winters morning. The fish were biting the ice of the cool, crisp, froth of the mediterranean sea looking for food. Waves were crashing in and out of the harbour pontoon. The fish would swarm, darting in and out of sight. Ab'ram would spot one and never let it leave his vision. They were fine that day, except for the fact the anchor had got stuck on a rock. He scurried for a machete and ushered Isaac to the end of the boat; 

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32 Guard

'What took you so long to get home?'

Pleasant are the trees at night when Vauxhalls fumes have gone.  A star in the sky, turning for Jupiterian times.  The fifth planet to evolve.  Crying shame I didn't wear my best, for my bride.  

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Story, People, Peace, Memory, HeartFlorian Pepo