Mi Amiga,
The old fiddler has a gig in Chicago, and promised to mail this for me. I'd come myself, but I was lucky to get here in the first place. I'm told my roots here aren't deep enough, yet, to come and go safely.
I've found a band, finally, and it's like the t-shirt--the music and the magic are all twined like Celtic knotwork. I'm free to be
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