By Amy Fahey A little over a year ago, I took my old father to a visit with a specialist. The appointment, which I still remember with painful clarity, made me think of the Anglo-Saxon poem simply known as The Ruin. The manuscript is damaged, so what remains is in itself a [...]
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By Amy Fahey A little over a year ago, I took my old father to a visit with a specialist. The appointment, which I still remember with painful clarity, made me think of the Anglo-Saxon poem simply known as The Ruin. The manuscript is damaged, so what remains is in itself a [...]