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Word: felting (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
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Usage:

...wife interrupted me twice in my darkroom Saturday. Both interruptions were due to phone calls. As I walked with her sown the hall to the living room, I noticed her palor. The excess of flesh creeping beneath the clothes she wears. I imagined how her feet felt in her shoes. The call was from an associate agency. They think I'm on to something since. I'm not at the office on weekends anymore...

Author: By William L. Ripley, | Title: Choosing Fruit | 3/17/1969 | See Source »

...fronts to survive. Deep as the eyes of a martyr discovering cowardice. Deep as the eyes of a politician turning from an applauding audience and suddenly feeling that only the chair is real. And maybe, at that routine and commonplace moment of rage, she knew something, felt something like the cutting of teeth, like doom., I'm not going to use the eyes in this photo. I'm using the bars of the crib, blown up. I've yet to select a pair of eyes. She was necessarily looking at me in any good picture of her eyes...

Author: By William L. Ripley, | Title: Choosing Fruit | 3/17/1969 | See Source »

Earlier in darkest night, when the voices vanished, he had crept from the bed. Visions fell from him and hovered where he had lain, buzzing softly next to Mirna. He felt tremendously alone as he tiptoed to the window. Here he practiced ego loss. The yellow street lit luminescence of the drapes sucked his face in and he looked out. A bear drove by in a station wagon. A great big bear's smile left a trial of light. We're in a city, he thought. Us, the walls, the bear, the streets. Our poorly schooled soul looking through...

Author: By William L. Ripley, | Title: Choosing Fruit | 3/17/1969 | See Source »

Nathan was walking away. Mirna and Scott felt the distance grown...

Author: By William L. Ripley, | Title: Choosing Fruit | 3/17/1969 | See Source »

...trying to incorporate the experiences of seven relatively innocent years into a whole." He waited for a response, but received none except that now he felt her slow pulse in her neck against his shoulder. "I've got a lot of pictures of my little girl and I'm mixing them all up you see." He found that he tensed at the mention of his daughter, not she. "One picture is good enough for me, your see. So I guess I'm really not doing it for myself. I'm trying to communicate my sense of the whole, because...

Author: By William L. Ripley, | Title: Choosing Fruit | 3/17/1969 | See Source »

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