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Homo Habilis Gary Introne


Man the Maker, that’s the guy; from Frederick Durenmatt to Uwe Johnson, I’ve walked that sky. Look, look at how all those awesome coffee cups, now reflect this kitchen counter’s light. Every word has carried some form of force, and we’ve talked for idling hours of the world and all its course. This playright’s returns are diminishing now, and - for sure - 1949 only happens once in a lifetime. I remember when Brecht died, where I was and what I was doing. Very simple, this odd shadow-theater of stately feelings and minds. I held it all together, once, but now it is lost.


W PAGE 13 ∙ Year I ∙ Issue #1


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