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		<title>Nathan Noble | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/noble07</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Nathan Noble</description>
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			<title>Mr. Gorbachev And All The Pretty Kites</title>
			<description>Got bored in class and decided to write a story. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/468541/</link>
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			<title>Hemingway In The Trunk</title>
			<description></description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/447200/</link>
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			<title>Moral Turbulence</title>
			<description>I took my seat in coach after wrestling my carry-on into submission in the overhead compartment. The tray table was broken and shook as my nervous knee bounced against it. Man was not meant to fly. Soon we would be slicing through god's neighborhood, trespassing. I could imagine looking from the win..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/442955/</link>
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			<title>A Day At The Shooting Range With Charles Bukowski</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;It was a beautiful sunny day. Gun shots rang out through the mountain tops and there he stood my hero. He took a sip from a warm beer can as the overspill dripped down his beard and onto his sweaty shirt that rose above his sun burnt belly. His hair slicked back and his eyes squinted through..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/417973/</link>
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			<title>A Stock Broker and Junkie Sit On A Park Bench</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Like the beginning of a bad joke a broker takes a seat on a park bench near a junkie. Children play and chase one another while innocence fills the summer air. The junkie watches without movement while the broker opens the business section of a fresh paper and mumbles..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/411746/</link>
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			<title>Chasing Daylight</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;Phillip ran, net above head, he ran. Swatting at the bright ball above his head, the pollen filled, Arkansas air violently inflated his lungs and he stopped to rest. He could faintly hear the distinct voice of his mother calling from beyond the green fields. He ignored the mother. Today woul..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/noble07/408957/</link>
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