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		<title>Tegan | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/goingonsunday</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Tegan</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>18 Messages You Will Never Get</title>
			<description>this all leads up to &quot;sorry&quot; but my pride is too big to say it, and i don't even know what i'm sorry for, but i feel like it needs to be said. something needs to be said. </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1463636/</link>
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			<title>LETS PRETEND I WAS RIGHT</title>
			<description>2014 was a weird year</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1463628/</link>
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			<title>The Lord's Pasture</title>
			<description>wicked writer's block and i'm really cynical soooooo o oo oooo o</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1462580/</link>
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			<title>Untitled #2</title>
			<description>winter and love are weird</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1462563/</link>
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			<title>An Open Letter To the Kids Sitting Next To Me</title>
			<description>The is a slam poem, and tends to be better received when heard rather than read. o well.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1462559/</link>
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			<title>Divinity Threshold</title>
			<description>They call me&amp;nbsp;borderline saintly.these hands make do and mend;stitch hearts together in more ways thanone; these handsmold sheets into feelingsand feelings into beings;these hands are fragile andI just want these words to meansomething, somewherebut instead of wine&amp;nbsp;we drink cheap vodka,and ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1462208/</link>
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			<title>Untitled #1</title>
			<description>there is lipstickall over my hands-&amp;nbsp;which smell of regret.admitting is the first step&amp;nbsp;to acceptanceis the first step&amp;nbsp;to healing.there is grace in the cracks of a sidewalk.grace i wish i could wrap my mouth aroundand speak, gracelike the skies from which we were birthed,that speak to m..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/goingonsunday/1462206/</link>
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