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		<title>India Brooks | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/InidaBrooks</link>
		<description>The original writings of author India Brooks</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Hush</title>
			<description>A twisted taste of silence</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/1050137/</link>
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			<title>Tightly Punctuated, With Love.</title>
			<description>When bad news occurs.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/644995/</link>
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			<title>Stars Weep</title>
			<description>A bereavement poem that quite simply summed up how I felt the time. Hope you enjoy!</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/632801/</link>
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			<title>The Realms</title>
			<description>Ever had a dream that never ends? A nightmare? A nightmare so unbareable that you don't even know if you're awake or asleep, that's what this is: the vicious story of the tangled sheets and sweating brow that can only accompany the fears of being trapped in your subconscious...&amp;nbsp;Such familiarity..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/623524/</link>
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			<title>The Understanding</title>
			<description>A poem of loss, love and misunderstanding. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/613699/</link>
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			<title>I wish I never knew</title>
			<description>It is time to close a door,It is time to turn out a light,It is time to turn a corner,It is time to take that flight.The broken shattered mirror and the and the pictures on the floor;The forever open window and the off-the-hinges door.The marble stairs are brokenand the records dance..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/611180/</link>
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			<title>Salt in the Ashes</title>
			<description>A short story I submitted for coursework</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/608008/</link>
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			<title>To My Father</title>
			<description>To My Father.One fine cold day I saw you walking;in the woods,with dappled cheeks&amp;nbsp;and rose red nose.You were wearing the clothes of another man.I called out to you and ran,but the running got long as you did not move.I could&amp;nbsp;see you,I could&amp;nbsp;smell you.Yet we bot..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/InidaBrooks/607557/</link>
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