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Listening to the tributes about my great grandmother Moewaka Jane Rapana (or Nama as she was affectionately called) it wasn’t hard to imagine her walking between us all standing there. It seemed fitting that she would rest on the high hill overlooking her beloved
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It’s an interesting habit we have, this one, of stowing old loves (their letters and or their pictures usually or both) between the pages of some much-loved book or somewhere equally safe. Why is that do you think? To keep the memory of them warm or
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