literature
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Readers are more than a family, for they listen when the world turns away. They hold words gently, as if each matters, offering a quiet stillness that lets voices linger. In this space, a story unfolds—a woman’s silent strength, her voice too often unheard, yet enduring. Jane Hawking’s Travelling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen
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Poem Down an English lane, where spring exhales,I roamed, entranced, by flowering trails.Petals swirled in sunlight’s tender beam,A chorus of hues, a woven dream. Cherry’s soft pink, magnolia’s snow,Lilac’s faint blush where breezes flow.Each shade a murmur to heart and thought,A cooling breath, with kindness wrought. Rose’s bold crimson sparked quiet flame,Jasmine’s pale star soothed
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