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Diane Cole’s book reviews, essays and fiction have appeared in many national magazines. She lives in New York City.
Words alone had not knitted us together; neither could silence tear the fabric. I remember a crisp fall afternoon when I started to tell my mother that I loved her, that seeing her suffer was more pain than I could bear, that — she held out her arms to stop me. “Don’t speak,” she said, “or we’ll both cry.”
June 1987Soon after I met the man who is now my husband — it was our second date, I think — Peter explained one of his chief requirements in a woman: “Let’s go to the library. We’ve got to be able to read in the same room together.”
May 1987Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? We’d love to hear about it.
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