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		<title>Threadgold | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Threadgold</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Threadgold</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Constantine Pebbles</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;God's finger looms over Indiaand God's eyes are the roofs of cathedrals the world over. &amp;nbsp;Tremors bloom underneath the earthbut Constantine pebbles cannot be seen movingon the beaches. &amp;nbsp;Dreams are suppressed from birthas we learn only to look three feet aheadon inland streets&amp;nbsp;and..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/1059882/</link>
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			<title>Nightclub Superheroes</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;For Chad Soul&amp;nbsp;&amp;hellip; until&amp;nbsp;- enteringlike great, staggering, fucked-up Captain Americas -the arrival of the Nightclub Superheroes: &amp;nbsp;taking shots fromall directions,throwing shapesacross tables,stealing six-shootersoff cowboys to save wall-..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/1055593/</link>
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			<title>Motormouth</title>
			<description>Is that all people have to talk aboutthese days&amp;nbsp;Who kicked who off the gormless circustalent show&amp;nbsp;Is that all people have left after the housingbenefits&amp;nbsp;and the forty hour week at minimum wage have accumulated to nothing&amp;nbsp;Who needs to&amp;nbsp;talk anyway, Jesusthere's nothing we can'..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/1054898/</link>
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			<title>Finding Character</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;I was Bob DylanI was an honourary Funk BrotherI was David Byrne; Robert Smith; Stevie Nicks. &amp;nbsp;I was a country singing poet, punk rocking street scamp and cold, northern, troubled soul. &amp;nbsp;A New York mad-man, stumbling down cobbled streets in Amsterdam, where the lights have heartbeats,..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/1035989/</link>
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			<title>2pm, Dusty Californian Freeway</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;2pm, on a dusty Californian freeway:in one fateful splitsecond, a grocery store workerlets go of the lead, his day-off descending into a day of chaos and a quick wizzof blurred car horn blasts. &amp;nbsp;Out the back window I see two dark figures running mad, making it through two lanes of hot-hea..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/1035982/</link>
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			<title>Untitled</title>
			<description>I wrote this following the shocking news reports on the 'Miami Cannibal' incident; the description of Rudy Eugene looking up and growling was what prompted me. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Threadgold/997753/</link>
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