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		<title>Maya.S | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/mayasmudja</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Maya.S</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776057390</lastBuildDate>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>The Girl Inside The Mirror</title>
			<description>It&amp;rsquo;s been said I look like you. Did you hear the story of theGirl inside the mirror? I wasn&amp;rsquo;t told until much later. I wasn&amp;rsquo;t told until after I fell in love.&amp;nbsp;You can look inside of me, ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1777743/</link>
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			<title>Incoming Call</title>
			<description>I sit in the silent zone of RichviewLibrary. Mom calls my cellphone. Afraid to answer, I leave it ringing on silent.I stare waiting for it to go on voicemail. Guilt sits at the bottom of mystomach. I rest my forehead in the palms of my hands. It&amp;rsquo;s been three..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1777722/</link>
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			<title>Come Play In My Charade</title>
			<description>Out of place, I think of the things I&amp;rsquo;ve done wrong.Maybe I should have paid more attention.But I&amp;rsquo;m too short sighted. I&amp;rsquo;ve never been Able to work things out for the better.&amp;nbsp;All of you witness my downfall, And are so forgi..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1770854/</link>
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			<title>A Pocket Full Of Change </title>
			<description>Istretch my arm and reach for my buzzing cell phone. I scurry to put my coat onand muffle the buzzing in my pocket. It&amp;rsquo;s probably Melanie, asking if I&amp;rsquo;m readyto meet her on the field of Lawndale&amp;nbsp;JuniorMiddle School. I march down the hallway an..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1770302/</link>
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			<title>Some Days</title>
			<description>Some days I lock myself in my bedroom,Crawl into my bed, And let the weight of my anger shudder from my shoulders.I cry. I cry until my eyes hurt,Until my head throbs with pain,Until my sobs are so loud, I&amp;rsquo;m afraid my neighbour&amp;rsquo;s mi..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1770086/</link>
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			<title>The Birthday Present</title>
			<description>Based from true events. A memoir piece. Enjoy! </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1770028/</link>
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			<title>The Runaways</title>
			<description>I'm a memoir writer (or at least I'm trying to become one) It's based from true events and I've changed the names of the characters involved except for my own. </description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mayasmudja/1770019/</link>
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