April 11, 2012
There she was, that nanny goat, as we turned into the marketplace full of Easter revelry. She arched her blonde neck to nibble the last bits of grain from one wrinkled hand. Moira and I tried to coax the little girls in close to feel that soft nose, to see the sleepy burro in the straw. Oh, they stepped in a bit. Tentatively.They don't remember. Th...
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