In the dog days of summer as muslin curls on its own heat And crickets cry in the black walnut tree The wind lifts up my life And sets it some distance from where it was. —Meena Alexander
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When the sun rises in Menemsha it comes up over a swordfish. The fishing village remains a mix of old and new, but the soul of the place is the ocean, and what comes from it.

Charles Morgan

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