Thursday, February 11, 2010

(Recommended Reads) "Dying Art" by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith

The old shaman looked down upon the village from his vantage point higher up the hill. He sighed at the sight of the people milling around. Not a soul there had seen less than 50 summers. The younger folk had been trickling out of the community for years, flocking to the city in search of … what? He did not know. None who had left had ever returned. Was that through choice, he wondered, or did the city lure them in only to lock its gates behind them?

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