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	<title>The Lost Princess</title>
	<link>http://thelostprincess.com</link>
	<description>And Other Stories</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Fri, 02 Dec 2011 09:47:31 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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		<title>The Art of Forgetting</title>
		<description><![CDATA[nd when she found something completely unbearable, she simply forgot it. That was her greatest power, forgetting. For nothing in the world can trouble you once it no longer exists, and what is the past but a selection of memories?&#8230;  <a href="http://thelostprincess.com/archives/975">continue reading</a> &#187;]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/975</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Fading</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Model &#038; Processing: thelostprincess Photography: sabatomic.com]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/962</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>The Book</title>
		<description><![CDATA[he considered the book, it&#8217;s dust jacket slightly ripped and cracked like the skin of some ancient beast. She considered it as one considers the distance between two rocks and whether they can leap over the rapids that swirl about&#8230;  <a href="http://thelostprincess.com/archives/956">continue reading</a> &#187;]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/956</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>violets</title>
		<description><![CDATA[verything tastes of violets today, of memories and the too long shadows that fall when one approaches silence. I&#8217;ve been walking backwards, hopscotch, over the cracks in the pavement (which open, welcoming me, it is cooler underground) running out of&#8230;  <a href="http://thelostprincess.com/archives/942">continue reading</a> &#187;]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/942</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>a thread</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I am a thread too slender, To suspend all this reality. Phillip Pulfrey]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/929</link>
			</item>
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		<title>pinwheels</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Days spinning by like pinwheels and each one leaves an afterimage, sunburnt, on my eyelids whose thin veils do little to bring the night closer, or shut the world out. Drawing monograms on the back of paper napkins, your letters&#8230;  <a href="http://thelostprincess.com/archives/921">continue reading</a> &#187;]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/921</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>kisses</title>
		<description><![CDATA[kisses xxx]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/910</link>
			</item>
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		<title>snowflakes</title>
		<description><![CDATA[December 25th. Cut holes in old books, like the one in my heart where the snow should be and the holly berries and the robins coming down to eat from my hands, starved by the winter as I am starved&#8230;  <a href="http://thelostprincess.com/archives/897">continue reading</a> &#187;]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/897</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>tie a knot</title>
		<description><![CDATA[I am so terribly guilty of living in memories, much simpler than daydreams because there is no waiting for them to come true (and it gets harder each year to be sure that they will.)]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/889</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title></title>
		<description><![CDATA[She said that dying was not like falling asleep, it was more like waking up for the first time, and being so awake that it hurts. I never write down my dreams, I&#8217;m afraid it will encourage them.]]></description>
		<link>http://thelostprincess.com/archives/822</link>
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