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

Volume 13, Number 3, September 2019

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Barbara Curnow

A Personal Commentary on Carol Raisfeld's "Around Every Corner"

There are days, now and then, which are odd in that I may see three or four people who, at first glance, I think I know, but then realise I’m mistaken. I find this particularly strange because it always happens like this, with several people in one day.

Is this some glitch in my brain which incorrectly puts a stranger’s face to a known face in my memory bank? Or is it something real which I just don’t understand – a past life companion or the soul of an ancestor peeking out through fresh eyes?

The dead and death are on my mind today as I read Carol’s words. Mum is probably in her last weeks and there’s a constant feeling of squirming tension in my chest, like someone struggling to escape a straight-jacket. Uncertainty and grief and wanting this time to be over, wrestle with each other with no clear winner.

Mum seems calm. She knows her situation better than me or the doctors. She knows it from the inside. I wish I could keep her company in there, but I’m just peering in through a window, pressing my palm on the glass.


Carol Raisfeld

Around Every Corner

The dead have no sense of tact, no manners. Ghosts enter doors without knocking. A complicated fantasy of intrusion.

Long-dead friends and family invade my dreams. Their story, being part of mine, refuses to reach an end. They are with me always, coming and going, presenting me with new problems and vexing questions.

someone who looked
like you
stopped to stare at me
as if we had a history



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