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Naked to the Gods: Meeting Poseidon Outside My Window

There’s an overtly masculine, hunky god outside my bedroom window. Here at my little writer’s studio in the Carmel Highlands, when I open the curtains in the morning, he is there gazing in at me. Most of the day he’s causally standing about, and when I draw the curtains at night, my little cottage aglow

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Candlebright

A man sits in the dark window, bundled in a light grey jacket and a blue Parisian scarf wrapped around his neck. By the light of a lone beeswax taper that flickers nearby on the table, his unruly and uncombed hair shines silver though his face is that of a man in his forties. Awake

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