"Ed nodded. "My father was killed in a car accident before I was born. He was a trumpet player. When I got old enough, I used to spend hours with his old trumpet. Holding something he had held was the only way I know to bring him close.""
–– Gail Bowen (b. 1942), Canadian author and playwright
Source: Gail Bowen. A Killing Spring. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1994, p. 76.
via: Art Alternatives Knapsack Sketchbook 2018 e, 2018, p. 6.
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