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“Five minutes ago escapes him as he chases 1934, unaware of the present beauty out the window, the banks of windswept snow— or his wife, humming in the kitchen, or the twilit battles in Korea, or me when he remembers that I am his son.” — Anthony Walton
Five minutes ago escapes him
as he chases 1934, unaware
of the present beauty out the window,
the banks of windswept snow—
or his wife, humming in the kitchen,
or the twilit battles in Korea, or me
when he remembers that I am his son.