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		<title>Koushik Sen | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Koushik70</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Koushik Sen</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776260249</lastBuildDate>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>Freckle</title>
			<description>FreckleThe rain wasunflinching; through the bus window. The old North Calcutta houses went past.Sometimes, there was nothing like a cool Calcutta breeze. It hit at me, curledin a waltz on my face, and made itself comely all of a sudden, and left asensation right at the corner of my lower..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780288/</link>
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			<title>Reprimand</title>
			<description>ReprimandI hope one day it all turns upAnd doesn&amp;rsquo;t endI hope when you kiss my china white cheeks&amp;nbsp;Without hate or cringeI hope I turn redAndI hopeThe distant laugh of the spurting undertakerMakes you hopeThat&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;Yes I&amp;nbsp;Stand up with my uncouthly perversity&amp;nbsp;And take up the..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780285/</link>
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			<title>The Folly of Solitude</title>
			<description>The&amp;nbsp; Folly of&amp;nbsp; Solitude &amp;nbsp;The sky has taken me for granted.It doesn't wear its grey cassock I so much wanted it to wear.It's too hot to listen to thesilence.As evening approaches,I stay back, pulsating.Myhands are sweaty.Thecorillons peal me ou..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780283/</link>
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			<title>Black Coffee</title>
			<description>Black coffee&amp;nbsp;In the cold white of the saucer,Sits a coffee-brim like an eyeball.Voices murmur, and Banter too,Is around. I speak, I listen,But nothing's coherent. Only the eyeballStares, pretending to be at my side.But I have known such wanting stares.And as the cobwebs da..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780281/</link>
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			<title>Woman</title>
			<description>WomanAs the raging wheels claspedthe watertight streetAnd the trapped maelstrom slurped the kick in,Just as he was only a member he&amp;rsquo;d convey,She wouldn&amp;rsquo;t reduce him to that(Or herself)However she was called a wench (by the callers)Of leaking nausea, through the underbel..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780279/</link>
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			<title>The White Horse</title>
			<description>The White Horse &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The white horse danced past in curlicues along the wet sand. &amp;nbsp;Its shadow changed places like a leprechaun.The brine from my cheeks saddled down a path &amp;nbsp;Chased by things it could not control..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Koushik70/1780237/</link>
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