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		<title>Philip Costea | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/philipcostea23</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Philip Costea</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>Hotel Dina</title>
			<description>written after seeing my mom cry on vacation in Rome</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/philipcostea23/1174188/</link>
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			<title>Rebel Yawn</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;What vice does life grantyouif you don&amp;rsquo;t have apenchant for the rebelhidden behind shades andleather?&amp;nbsp;When you feel the rumbleof chrome beneath youand hear the sound offreedom throttlethen the tattoo ofindulgence is fresh&amp;nbsp;When you hav..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/philipcostea23/1168355/</link>
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			<title>upon the new pad</title>
			<description>The freshness of a new setting&amp;nbsp;Settles slow like smoke into thin air.I haven&amp;rsquo;t been able to taste this new place with rested eyes yet.Everything&amp;rsquo;s &amp;ldquo;This will look good&amp;hellip;once we touch it up a bit&amp;rdquo;.I&amp;rsquo;m not so concerned about that. Maybe not terribly.But what ab..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/philipcostea23/1160212/</link>
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			<title>An Injunction on Joy</title>
			<description>I seek joy not as a compensation for lack of humoror a sense of itbut as a necessity of fulfillmentI hear my son laugh sometimes with the deepest sense of committed nonchalanceand it beckons a reminder of what carefreedom wascarefreedom must have been young when it lost itself as wellbecause if it e..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/philipcostea23/1114717/</link>
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			<title>poet with a gun</title>
			<description>Bravado strolls with the clink of spurs on weather-beaten bootshis words sear, branding a being wholethrough layers of lackluster rootsSifting for words like dust-pan goldthe drifter asks after taking a swig of grog,&amp;ldquo;What&amp;rsquo;s a poem if it doesn&amp;rsquo;t rock the hell out of your soul?Why do..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/philipcostea23/1088290/</link>
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