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		<title>Scott Durham | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/nixon2008</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Scott Durham</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Aunt Rita</title>
			<description>She is a surprise, that Rita. Not a classy broad, but just enough for the city of El Cajon. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1588186/</link>
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			<title>Under The Latest Coat</title>
			<description>Interpretive homage to a new coat of paint. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1579424/</link>
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			<title>Reflections In Haiku</title>
			<description>I heard a flute in the mountains, and it sounded much differently.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1534919/</link>
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			<title>A Morning In The Fields</title>
			<description>Dust, Autism, and Adultery. This story has it all. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1524696/</link>
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			<title>Three Onion Fork </title>
			<description>Jazz nightmares, Bar-tending prowess and a recipe for wasted karma. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1524473/</link>
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			<title>The Eye Of Quebec</title>
			<description>Nothing isolates like Nature.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1524252/</link>
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			<title>The Law Of Distant Beauty</title>
			<description>An obsession with the world's most popular writer turns dangerous. A desk in a meadow explodes, pea soup is eaten. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1524185/</link>
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			<title>The Hypothesis Of Qualia</title>
			<description>A position paper defending the views of Professor David J. Chalmers. This is an Academic Paper written for a Western Philosophy Class. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1213797/</link>
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			<title>The Smell Of Indian Summer</title>
			<description>The wind turns cold&amp;nbsp;in the early of the eveninga dusty aroma from the fieldsreminds me of the long shadowsstars made bright by an empty moonthe Logan girl drives by just a little too soonI am caught, and I am red-handedframe by frame, living in a quiet infancythere has been a time to waitand I ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/nixon2008/1089565/</link>
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