Two nights after Christmas. We are somnolent and turkey-stuffed. The booming draws us to the windows, the flashing lights keep us there. Fireworks! With each explosion, the snow covering Lac Brome lights up. The colours are something out of Breughel, bonfires beyond the trees. The frozen world glitters in the sudden light.
If You Wish to Mourn a Fascist
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If You Wish to Mourn a Fascist If you wish to mourn a fascistDo not mourn
his death, Mourn the life he spent in hate, Mourn all the gay and trans
livesHe s...
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