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Two decades passed since my first book of poems,
It was past time to publish volume two,
The sands of time weigh heavy on my bones,
And my road narrows with yet much to do.

Too many friends have now passed through the veil,
As have my parents and their siblings all,
My circle narrows, empty now my vale,
In sleepless nights I can but hear their call.

So many dreams deferred that now have died,
My negligence bereft them of their life,
So many doors left closed I should have tried,
No hope remains for me or for my wife.

Even my music echoes distant, dull,
But poetry can for a time pain lull.

____
If you would like to download a free copy of the eBook version of my second book of poems, Echoes of Dawn at Dusk, you can do so only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1035449 until June 20, 2022.
I've published twenty books to date,
I love to write, that's just my fate,
My textbooks tens of thousands used,
But my poetry needs a boost.

More write than read poems it seems,
And I won't pay marketing schemes,
Nor will I pay for book reviews,
In hopes of better book sale news.

The mortgage my non-fiction paid,
My publishers more profits made,
My first house fully paid by them,
My indie fiction's no such gem.

Judge not my poems by these weak lines,
They're as annoying as French mimes,
My books much better verse contain,
(So does graffiti on a train.)

For those still reading these my lines,
Download my first book free online,
You'll find it at the link below,
Until June 10, not one day more.

All eBook versions free through June 10, but only at one of the retailers where the book is sold: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/181370
Redemption

What if a long-dead beauty,
Let you see your failings in life,
Would you fight for redemption?


Modern Art and the Critics

How do we know that what hangs,
On modern art galleries now,
Merits our calling it art?

The above hakus are teasers for two short stories by the
same names that you can download free until May 31
but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1138974
An extinction event looms,
Death arrives in under two years,
Riding on an asteroid.

Earth's future is sealed,
Salvation not possible,
Can humanity prevail?

Will chaos rule our waning days?
Will we give in to despair?
Or will we refuse to yield?

Will we sacrifice our last days,
For the slimmest ray of hope,
To preserve our human seed?

Will we face our end,
In triumphant defiance,
Or embrace despair?

You can download a copy of my eBook science fiction short story by the same name free until May 15, 2022, but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428820
My first small book of poems, still one I love,
That scans most of a lifetime's pain and joy,
A journey rendered in very few words,
Songs of myself and of far better souls.

Of all I've published it is the least read,
Yet one I hope survives me when I'm dead.

___
Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems free in all eBook formats only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/181370
We know so very little about dreams,
Are they just fantasies we realize?
Products perhaps of the subconscious mind,
Working out problems as we sleep at night?

No one yet understands the human brain,
Mapping its function is beyond our grasp,
Despite the knowledge science has achieved,
Its mystery's still a Gordian knot.

How does cognition arise in our brain?
What are its secrets we have yet to find?
Where does the soul reside, if one exists?
And what is hidden from the conscious mind?

What if we were to find to our surprise,
Others inhabit that which we most prize?
This is a teaser poem for one of the 13 short stories in my Echoes of the Mind's Eye collection. You can download the complete short story free until May 1, but only at the following link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428684
Apr 22 · 185
Requiem for Love
Love does not die of just a single blow,
Its life flows out quite slowly over years,
One drop follows another as love flows,
From thousands of unfatal cuts and tears.

A thousand little stings from tongue or eye,
A thousand unkind words from me and you,
A thousand "I told you so’s" piled on high,
A thousand battles lost, refought anew.

Each wound a scab that grows harder with time,
Covering festering hurts that won't heal,
An unwise word morphs to betrayal sublime,
Suppurating reminders all too real.

Simple kindness is lost from lack of use,
And what remains just a facade in truth.


My podcast reading of this poem is available at https://open.spotify.com/episode/7tRrW46ovkUfmLknjvhmGn?si=ipvg74hOQ3iWbWWlPfhDKw
When seeking knowledge occupies your mind,
Start close to home, and wisdom you may find.

Cast hubris out, and then truth will appear,
You may not know it, but it's always near.

Look not to the horizon to find truth,
Lest there you find only your wasted youth.
These three couplets are teasers for my short story, Eternal Quest which you can download free until 4/25/22, but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/181305
Apr 18 · 70
On Easter Sunday
I am unworthy, Lord, of your sacrifice,
I am unworthy, Lord of your love,
But through You I am made whole.

My faith in You sustains me in the most difficult of times,
You are the light that shines in the darkest corners of my soul,
You have died. You have risen. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Apr 16 · 82
On Holy Saturday
I do not wear religion as a shield,
Nor as a sword.

I wear it quietly in my heart,
A beacon of hope, faith, and love.

I know You love me, Lord,
Despite all my flaws that make me unworthy of Your love.

God made man, the best of us,
Who died to buy redemption for our sins.

You are absent from my Church today,
Three days of absence that mark Your death and resurrection.

Tomorrow you will return in Glory,
We will celebrate your resurrection.

My wife and I may not be at Your home,
Illness may prevent it, not for the first time.

But we are grateful beyond words for Your sacrifice,
And the love that made it possible.

We carry You always in our hearts,
With gratitude, love, and hope.

You have died. You have risen. You will come again.
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
I am an ostrich, hiding deep within myself,
My head submerged in murky moods,
Screaming in a vacuum.
No, not a vacuum, but a sound-proof room,
With walls of ten-foot stone,
A fortress,
Clammy, cold and, dimly lit,
That admits no sound,
But the monotonous percussion,
Of a heart that knows the one eternal truth:

We are born dying,
And every breath that we take,
Every beat of our heart,
Brings us one step closer,
To the grave.

It is easy to forget a world exists outside,
My diminutive cell when my teeth chatter,
Not from the absence of warmth,
But from the absence of meaning.

Perspective, perspective, perspective,
Echoes through my fruitless cell.

I am a foolish,
Ugly bird,
Cowardly bird,
But needlessly.

I heard a song today, a soothing melody,
Sung by an angel dressed in woman's clothes;
Oh, sing again, dear love, I had
Almost forgotten your sweet voice!
This is one of my early poems that links in a vital albeit indirect way to one of my early short stories, Eternal Quest. We are too often so wrapped up in ourselves that we forget to live. We can pursue life-lomng Quixotic quests looking for love, truth, enlightenment in all the wrong places when all may be closer to hand than we realize until it is too late. I was in my late teens when I wrote one of my early and still favorite short stories, Eternal Quest, and not much older when I penned the above poem. Both are prescient and, alas, not instructive enough for the young old man that wrote them. If you would like to read Eternal Quest, I am making it available for free download until April 25 but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/181305
It's Poetry Month,
If poets wail in the woods,
Do they make a sound?

If what we write goes unread,
Why on earth do we persist?
It is madness, I insist,
No one can cure 'till we're dead.

Will we be silent, or discouraged? No!
Let our voices resonate with our truth,
Be it sweet as a ripe pomegranate,
Or sour as cheap wine left too long uncorked.

We sing as best we can in harmony,
Or screech like rusty nails caressing slate,
E pluribus unum - one family,
Embracing every country, every state.

Our voiced won't be silenced, nor our song,
For we were born to sing right notes and wrong.
On Modern Art

Art is in the eye of the beholder,
Modern art is especially troubling,
Since when anything goes, nothing matters,
When everyone's an artist, art is dead.

Splotches on paper art? Yes if you wish,
And so are vulvas rendered in a dish,
Mother of God submerged in dung and ****,
Men urinating in men's mouths is bliss.

Who are the arbiters of this grand farce?
Why art critics, of course, for they know best,
And we, the unwashed masses, must all yield,
Our sense to what their wisdom will reveal.

Filtered through their ego art is revealed,
Through platitudes delivered with great zeal.


Redemption

Even in lost souls,
Embers of goodness remain,
waiting to be stoked.

With a gentle nudge,
Our better natures can rise,
Purified, renewed.

We can save ourselves,
Make amends for our mistakes,
Choose a wiser path.


The two poems above are inspired by two short stories from my Echoes of the Mind's Eye collection.
You can my podcast reading of the above poems and others at https://anchor.fm/victor-d-lopez
Mar 29 · 101
To Poets Everywhere
We are brothers and sisters of the pen,
Toiling in darkness, hoping to shed light,
Clicking away our life's blood every day,
Passionately crafting words that go unread.

Of all the things in life that we could do,
None would yield lesser tangible rewards,
We do it not for gain, or praise, or fame,
We do it because it is simply what we are.

We write with ink, with toner, or with blood,
To allow others to see through our eyes,
A world that's stripped of facile, false facades,
And rendered to expose its naked truth.

We travel solitary paths of joy and pain,
Hoping some friends along the way to gain.
Mar 19 · 95
On My Poetry
Although I have published millions of words,
Twelve texts on law, fourteen peer-reviewed articles and more,
My favorite book of all is tiny,
Only seven thousand and eighty words.

A quarter million words about the law,
Between hard covers feed a hungry mind,
But seven thousand words and a few more,
Fed my young soul and stitched my broken heart.

I'm grateful my non-fiction is widely read,
But wish it were my poetry instead.
Mar 17 · 89
I am an Only Child
Although I am an only child,
I have billions of siblings,
Men and women,
Young and old,
Jewish, Muslim, Christian,
And of all other religions and none.

I am but a leaf,
Of a very old tree,
Planted by one God,
Known by many names,
And worshipped in many ways,
Perhaps to His amusement.

Regardless of what any religion teaches,
Including my own,
I know we are all His children,
And He loves each of us,
Who strive to do good,
More than doing well.

All human beings,
In their infinite precious variety,
Are my siblings.
All are bound by our God's love,
All spring from the same holy seed,
That He planted in eternal hope we might do right.

If I hurt my siblings,
I hurt myself more,
And disappoint He who created me,
And all whom I love more than words can say.
I weep for the injustice humanity wreaks upon its own,
I weep for He who filled the void with light that we might see.

I weep for those who injure my brothers and sisters,
Almost as much as I weep for the victims of their evil deeds,
For I know the victims will return to God's embrace,
While their tormentors will reap a bitter harvest,
From the poisoned seeds they sow,
And will never share in God's embrace when their days are done.

God is love,
Love is God,
God love is.
Love His children well,
As He well loves each one of us,
Let not His love go unrequited.
Mar 15 · 90
True Love Revisited
Romantic love can fade and does with time,
Like hunger of those starving in a feast,
Or a child let loose in a candy store,
Who quickly tires of endless sugar highs.

No fire can burn forever, not on earth,
The hottest flame to cinders is reduced,
And cinders' glow can warm but not consume,
And so we search for other fires in time.

Great is the need for a consuming love,
Once felt, it haunts us to our dying day,
And we engage in a most foolish quest,
Looking for that most rare eternal flame.

And when we find it, or think that we do,
We cling to it and bid reason adieu.

___________

This blank verse above is my teaser for my short story Amor Vincit Omnia which deals with the subject of true love and our need to embrace it no matter how unlikely the source. It is one of my most unusual short stories from my Echoes of the Mind's Eye collection from a very personal point of view with humor and tongue only slightly planted in cheek.
Justice

Forced conformity,
By states that steal our freedom,
Does not justice make.

No price is too high,
To break the chains that deny,
Our right to freedom.

-------------------------

Hubris

We pay a high price,
When hubris drives our actions,
Instead of reason.

Wiser ones than we,
Can leave us clear warning signs,
That we will ignore.

Mice run for the cheese,
Heedless of the deadly trap,
Alas, so do we.

__________

The above are teaser poem for my SF short stories "Justice" and "The Riddle of the Sphinx: Solved". You can download both in ebook format free until 3/15/22, but only at the following link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/429453
Mar 7 · 76
A Word to the Wise
I do not care what others think,
I care somewhat what others say,
I care the most for what they do.

Thoughts in themselves won't hurt or ****,
Words do not heal or peace achieve,
Actions alone can change the world.

Fear not the man who likes you not,
Raise not a hand to answer words,
Fear those who smile with knives in hand.

Don't waste your time on pleasant dreams,
Don't write to those whose eyes are closed,
Actions, not thoughts or words, bear fruit.
If we had two years' notice,
Of our world's impending doom,
What might humanity do?

Would we bend our knees and pray?
Would chaos reign supreme?
Would we quietly despair?

Would our flame shine brightest then?
Or would we embrace darkness?
I suspect we would do both.

But I doubt we would give up,
I hope we'd go out fighting,
For one final, great lost cause.

Ingenuity is ours,
I believe we would unite,
To save humanity's seed.

Humanity would survive,
Some on space stations perhaps,
Others would flee underground.

Moon bases might yet be built,
And perhaps even on Mars,
That human kind might go on.

An asteroid can destroy,
All that humankind has built,
But not the human spirit.

_____

This is a teaser poem about one of my longest short stories, Mars: Genesis 2.0 about humanity's struggle to preserve its seed in the face of an extinction event. You can download the short story (one of 13 in my Echoes of the Mind's Eye collection) free through 3/10/2022 but only at the following link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428820
There is no danger,
Like that of hubris unbound,
Linked with nihilism.

We think we conquered,
The universe's secrets,
With our puny brains.

Plato wisely wrote,
"I know that I know nohing,"
An optimist, he.

What we know could fill,
Perhaps half of an eggshell,
If it is quite small.

________

If you would know more, please download and read my short story, End of Days, free until March 3, 2022 but only at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428812
We're not the sole intelligence on Earth,
Nor necessarily the brightest here,
Other mammals we know indeed possess,
Significantly larger brains than ours.

***** whales, elephants and dolphins all have,
Larger brains than humans, it is well known,
As to intelligence no one can know,
Which species is the brightest of them all.

Imagine now that science could allow,
Humans to speak with dolphins in real time,
What would we learn from them and they from us?
What would they think of all we have achieved?

If they could see us with clear eyes and minds,
How might they judge the worth of humankind?


______

You can download my short story by the same name free of charge in any ebook format through February 26, 2022 at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428707
Feb 13 · 70
Earth Mother
A beautiful woman is awakened,
By an off-world visitor with a plea,
With enticing compensation promised,
If she will render a simple service.

Compensation would be two priceless gifts,
No humans possess and few would pass up.
Say yes, and the world could be her oyster,
Her high ambitions within easy reach.

Should she accept? And if she does, will she,
Attain all that she craves, or tragedy?
This is a teaser for my SF short story by the same name
Feb 7 · 68
Mergs
We choose to keep the homeless out of sight,
As though they'd vanish if we do not look,
It's easy to ignore their sorry plight,
Treat them as lesser humans God forsook.

We easily dismiss the luckless few,
Though there but for God's grace may go we all,
Yet hubris blinds us to what we once knew,
Before our childhood's end, before our fall.

How different to us the world would seem,
If we knew billions worshipped each of us,
Unheard, unseen, their fates not ours to glean,
The least of us, in fact, a world en masse.

If kings and paupers both are just the same,
Denying each dignity is insane.
This sonnet is intended as a teaser for one of my short stories, "Mergs (or Why Godot Can't Come)".
What price would you pay,
For a chance to change your past,
Would you give up life?

If you cannot live,
With a life-changing mistake,
No price is too high.
This is a teaser poem for my short story, What Price to Live the Dream.
Jan 30 · 49
Homo Sapiens Sapiens
**** Sapiens Sapiens,
Are at the top of the food chain.

We would do well to remember,
Long ago, so were dinosaurs.
Jan 30 · 46
Career Advice
Work is a true joy,
When it involves your passion,
Choose careers wisely.

Of your time on earth,
Much will be spent preparing,
For work and working.

Make your life's work count,
By choosing meaningful work,
Leave something behind.
We sleep at night secure we think,
That surely we'll awake,
But what if dreams would others link,
Intent to our mind take?

Our brain gives birth to consciousness,
Though science knows not how,
Our brightest minds can only guess,
But never truly know.

I posit other minds than ours,
May share the sleeping brain,
And in some cases nightly hours,
Through dreams cause us real pain.

If we are weak and they are strong,
The battle they might win,
They fight to live, no right or wrong,
In the struggle within.
Jan 24 · 58
Seeds in the Wind
Feathery seeds blown by winds of chance,
Over deserts, oceans, forests,
Thousands of miles,
Or only a stone throw away,
To land and retake flight,
Time and again,
Before taking root,
And thrive or die,
Helpless,
As soil and weather will,
Such is our plight.
In Spring I Dreamt of Summer's Sun
In spring I dreamt of summer's sun,
And all the things that I'd get done.

In summer I did dream of fall,
And lovely times we would have all.

In fall I dreamt of winter's due,
When rest and travel would come true.

And now that winter's finally here,
I dream of all the wasted years.

I dream of times we should have shared,
When all were still alive who cared.

I dreamed away my life it seems,
Instead of living it, I dreamed.

Longed for tomorrow every day,
And now I long for yesterday.

I wish I'd lived each day awake,
Left precious moments in my wake.

But wisdom comes too late I fear,
Too many dreams and wasted years.
Jan 23 · 68
True Love
We search for true love,
Often for a lifetime,
Yet seldom find it.

Love's not hard to find,
Especially when we're young,
Consumed by passion.

As we age we find,
The embers still glow brightly,
But do not consume.

Yet the pain persists,
Emptiness that we can't fill,
However we try.

If we find true love,
No force in the universe,
Can keep us from it.

No matter the source,
No matter the circumstance,
We meld into one.
We love roses best,
Sweet smell, glorious petals,
We ignore the thorns.

Weeds are flowers too,
Saffron dandelions bloom,
With edible leaves.

Children's sweet delight,
Summer's snowflakes their blown seeds,
Gathered gifts for mom.

We protect the rose,
And poison dandelions,
Their beauty unprized.

Nature provides both,
Without judgment as to worth,
It is we who judge.

So with people too,
Flamboyant facades we praise,
Plain, true worth we shun.
Jan 22 · 143
Happy Memory
Mom reading to me,
Bedtime stories, fresh and old,
Unhappy endings.

Loud protest from me,
Sometimes with effusive tears,
Mom revising end.

The wolf does not eat,
Grandma or Red Riding Hood,
All's well with the world.

If only her words,
From heaven could change today,
Real life with such ease.


Hear my reading of this poem at https://open.spotify.com/episode/1Iua0LTtHwczbN19aEiALg?si=DsYKH0OdRj6KiBCL0ZYeoA
Jan 21 · 49
Galactica
Cylons and humans,
Can end their war, choose peace,
Why oh why can't we.
Jan 21 · 239
Kiss a Babbling Brook
Kiss a babbling brook,
It will gladly quench your thirst,
With crisp, clear water.

Kiss raging rapids,
You'll be crushed against the rocks,
And drown, thirst unquenched.

Calm waters sustain,
Turgid ones excite us more,
Danger alway does.
Jan 20 · 37
Life's Biggest Losers
Life's biggest losers,
Are those who when they're losing,
Want to change the rules.
Jan 18 · 421
Yet Another Storm
The snow cleared away,
Only six inches this time,
More is on the way.

Lovely when it falls,
Powdered sugar covers trees,
Sweet treat for the eyes.

Lower back pain flares,
Winters in upstate New York,
Loveliest when young.
Jan 18 · 53
Blood Paella
Frozen meat, knife slips,
Cuts ring finger to the bone,
Bleeding will not stop,

Late night ER trip,
Ahead of oncoming storm,
stitches or glue seal?

Tendon nearly missed,
Wound cleaned, sealed, and blood flow stopped,
Wound dressed and sent home.

Sleet and snow falling,
Got home, went back to cooking,
Unfinished main dish.

Washed my blood from plate,
$250 rice dish,
Completed at last.

Greedily consumed,
ER Fees won't ruin,
This cook's appetite.


Based on this week's latest ordeal. My carelessness had its price with a $250 ER visit despite my supposed "Cadillac" health plan. But there's no use crying over spilt blood--and I did pick up where I left off and enjoyed a tasty albeit now much more expensive dish. That's what I get for separating frozen chorizo with my favorite very sharp knife carelessly--even while knowing if I slipped I could get a nasty cut. As I've written elsewhere in one of my short stories, my wife is justified in calling me the smartest idiot she knows. *SIGH
Jan 17 · 51
Writing Sets Us Free
Writing sets us free,
To transform that which now is,
To what it could be.

Render for others,
The world from new perspectives,
So that they may see.

One word at a time,
Ours the power to create,
A new universe.

Share my worlds with me,
A journey of the mind's eye,
With lessons to teach.
We are chained to earth,
By our hopes, dreams, appetites,
And loved ones still here.

But the bonds weaken,
As we experience loss,
Of those we most love.

Eventually,
Heaven wins the tug of war,
As grief seeks release.

And spirit flies free,
Its chains snapped by heaven's pull,
Towards those we love.

Thus we fallen rise,
If our lives made us worthy,
By the Grace of God.

Lonely, lost no more,
Open arms awaiting us,
To welcome us home.
Jan 15 · 99
Memories
life's precious moments
swirl around time's vortex
slowly spun into fine threads
that melt away
like cotton candy
on the tongue
leaving behind
insubstantial
sweet, tenebrous
soft impressions
of what has been
My gift to readers,
Hire Lernin' free until,
1/15/22

Prefer poetry?
I'll make my new book free too,
Through the noted day,

Both books will be free,
Only through the links below,
Nowhere else that day.
The ebook versions of both books in all formats are available free only at Smashwords until January 15, 2022. You can find both bookjs through my author's page at the following link (cut and paste into your browser):

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/VictorDLopez

You can scroll down on my page to findthe books. When you click on them, the price will show as "free" until 1/15/22.
Jan 12 · 142
Childhood's End
A child is transfixed,
By a rainbow in full bloom,
Adults curse the rain.
Jan 12 · 41
Childhood
Wonder in all things,
Magic, trust, discovery,
Joy in simple play.
Jan 11 · 700
Ever notice . . .
The louder the man,
The weaker his argument,
The smaller his brain
Jan 11 · 144
On News Reporting
Education is the lie you believe.
Propaganda is the truth you dislike.
Jan 11 · 60
On Truth
Opinions are made of flexible cloth,
That can adapt to drape any body,
Regardless of how strange or fine its shape.

Truth is made of rigid, hard, brittle cloth,
That must be worn exactly as it comes,
Alter it for comfort's sake, and it breaks.
Jan 9 · 62
When Men Rape Nature
When men **** nature,
Sterile children may be born,
Of concrete and steel.

Angles sharp and tall,
They grow to the sky daily,
On their mother's grave.

Then in false homage,
They build a fake monument,
With locks of mom's hair.

This is Central Park,
A manufactured green space,
For all that was killed.

Malodorous meat,
Offered to the hungry dogs,
Who think it prime beef.
This poem is a variation on a theme I wrote about when still in College titled "Central Park". You can hear me read "Central Park" at https://anchor.fm/victor-d-lopez/episodes/A-reading-of-my-poem--Central-Park-evjmgg
Few things shine as bright,
As a new adventure's start,
Hope springs eternal.

Siren's song beckons,
Calling us towards the rocks,
Will our course hold true?

If the course is true,
The vision clear and focused,
All may yet end well.

Battles may be won,
Pyrrhic victories are these,
If innocence lost.
This is another teaser, likely the last one, for my novel "Hire Lernin': An Idealist's Quest through the Realm of for-Profit Education." You can sample 20 percent of the book free by using the "look inside" feature at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08XPTYDPD/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0
Apply for dream job,
Three days later,  interviewed,
Next day, job offered.

Would you celebrate?
Jubilation or caution?
Dream job or nightmare?

Chapter 3 details,
An actual interview,
Which one will it be?
Chapter 3 of my novel details the protagonist's interview for a dean's position in a proprietary, for-profit business school. Although the novel is fiction, this chapter (as with many others) closely parallels my own experience in my first academic posting for a similar position in NYC in the late 1980s. My girlfriend's reaction at the time (now my wife) parallels the protagonist's girlfriend's reactions exactly. Some of the humor in these early chapters--including the examples used by the protagonist's girlfriend in holding up a mirror to his naivete are also based on my actual experiences--including the four gentlemen in a car offering me a management-training position at a bus stop while I waited for a bus to take me to my part-time job. Fact is often stranger than fiction, and common sense is too often inversely proportional to intelligence--especially when dealing with idealists of all ages. You can preview 20% of the novel and most of my current published books at my Amazon author's page at https://www.amazon.com/Victor-D.-L%25C3%25B3pez/e/B001KMII74%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share or at any major bookseller's site. As always, thank you for your support.
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