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Vocare is to invoke and to beckon.

I am beckoning here:

I write for my life, finding words have been taken to strife, when the real root was a butter knife to wipe fresh clotted cream upon a bun from the bakery down the lane when the dairymaid came to stay.

The story here is of a man who I found on a desert sand along a cove, looking tan. He had come to man, looking all grand and he did land…..