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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 13, Number 2, June 2019

Beate Conrad
Hildesheim, Germany


The phone rings as some aerial photos of a volcano group in Central America flicker across the TV.

The younger sister asks in a high-pitched tone, why she did not hear from me what I already seemed to know for years? Something father finally told her, or so it seemed.

White clouds hover in the blue sky high above the volcanoes. Just above a cone-shaped volcano hangs a single thick cloud.

Even if our father has long been struggling with manic-depressive episodes—driving us out of our skin time and again—he had to know something. The cloud assumes a darker color.

Of course, he hadn't told me anything. Apart from the eternal earlier quarrels, where much has been said, just to put one over each other.

Below the volcanic peak, ash and scree slopes come now into view. Mother would have been the only one who could have contributed something substantial to the matter.

From a deep rift dark smoke arises. Geologists take soil samples and set up new gauges in the fertile, densely populated volcanic plain. I'm determined to order a DNA test.



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