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Alethea Gail Segal


The Spell

The night after we first met, after the ghosts of air rustled the blinds in the window and circled the room where we sat in easy chairs face to face, I dreamed we followed the road to the outskirts of town, pavement to gravel, then dust. We were trav [...]

Circus: Tightrope Walker

I am not what you think: mindless. My father read aloud the poems of Pushkin. Each day he read to us as we traveled, my sister curled like a kitten under his coat. Even now, if you ask, she recites, word for word, her favorite. First Russian, then En [...]