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    Where the Magnolia Sings and My Mother Keeps the Moon in a Jar - Part Two

    Where the Magnolia Sings and My Mother Keeps the Moon in a Jar - Part TwoThe Shattered Glass     The afternoon sun stretched lazily across the floorboards, casting long, warm rectangles of light over my Batman figures. The “Pow!” and “Zap!”...

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    • With age often comes wisdom and more appreciation for our past than may have originally been felt. I think the lesson in this was the appreciation for the women in his past life, his mother being the leader of them all, and the little lessons learned along the way.

      • Your perspective here is right on target here my friend. As the writer I can truly say you have focused on the heart of this story and gleaned the meanings within. I am so deeply grateful to you for sharing your understanding and what you took from my words. Yes the mother is the leader of these women in his life. I think I read something a psychologist wrote along those lines long ago. You really understood exactly this theme and delved into this meaning most aptly. I thank you so much. 🙂

        John

        • No problem, John. Sorry it took so long. Been busy. 🙂

          • My friend no problem about waiting. Never a problem. Very much appreciate you and your words here. 🙂

            John

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    goldenmyst wrote a new post

    Where the Magnolia Sings and My Mother Keeps the Moon in a Jar - Part One

    Where the Magnolia Sings and My Mother Keeps the Moon in a Jar - Part One     The air in New Orleans during the summer of 1973 didn’t just sit; it breathed. It was a heavy, velvet presence, smelling of damp...

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    • Rather the stick huh? A firm hand to keep in line. this is a good opening to this. this felt like I read two full pages here.

      • Glad you liked my opening my friend. Indeed it was at least two pages. Yes the boy in the story liked bossy women who kept him in line. They excited him. Thank you so much for reading my friend. He is just discovering his submissive feelings. This is the beginning of his femdom interests.

        John

    • You have a really nice writing Style I’ve always enjoyed. I like the contrast between Sonia and the mother. In a world of wonderment, a little boy finds his first crush. It’s an ideal life of wonder and amazement. I believe if there was a hundred dollar bill in his pocket he would have given it to her. lol

      The mother has wisdom enough to know where his feelings will be in years to come.

      • I can’t thank you enough my friend. I am thrilled by your apt and keen observations on this story. Truly you have captured its essence in your review. I am deeply appreciative. Indeed love that comment if there was a hundred dollar bill in his pocket he would have given it to her. lol. Priceless. Indeed I am sure he would have given it to her. And yes truly the mother knew how his feelings would evolve and already were. Thank you so much. 🙂

        John

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    Brandon Houser
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    Brandon Houser wrote a new post

    What Becomes.....

    What becomes of the eyeswhen you linger still?What becomes of the dancewhen you surrender your will? What becomes of the thunderwhen you want to feel the rain?What becomes of pleasurewhen you sing through the pain? What becomes of icewhen you're addicted...

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    • hello dearest poet great flow and deep questions ❤️

    • Powerfully penned, Brandon. Another amazing write with great flow and lots of substance my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • You already know I adore this one. The questions land with such clean force, and the cadence pulls me back for another read every time.

      I stand by my original comment when I read it the first few times…

      “Your questions move like a quiet tide… each one brushing against the edge of longing, change, and the places where certainty slips. There’s a beautiful ache in how you hold opposites together: stillness and motion, fire and ice, surrender and will. It feels like a search for the moment where tension becomes truth, where the self finally meets itself without flinching. I love the way each line leans into that threshold. It lingers with me.” -Curly Grace (Writers Cafe)

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