Liz, this lovely to read. I'm completely charmed, btw, about how many readers (relative to my subscribers) I have in the U.K. I'm flattered by that. It's also because my wife is English. My kids are getting their U.K. passports now, and England has become like a second home. What part of England is your vibrating little workroom? I will give a solid tug on the harpstring when I know which one yours is connected to. Thank you for your note. They are indeed tales (true ones), but you are the first to use, quite correctly, that word. And we are approaching an Arabian Dawn shortly. 🌘

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Jan 11Liked by Adam Nathan

Evidence of gathering or collecting things is a phenomenon that has been studied throughout history. An accumulation of what usually consists of objects having value to the beholder.

Your mom collected love.

Every tangible evidence of love gathered together, “…some of them bound together in ribbons and bows…” ,as if all could be tethered to the ground she stood on. Held tight in her hands or “hidden”. Always protected.

It was her treasure .

She held the value of the written word above all else. No surprise really.

Words, and stories, memories and photographs , an opus for her children.

If words could reach the stars and beyond, she would be smiling.

Every time I finish reading the next chapter, I think this one , this is the best yet. And so it is.

“And in that calm center the kaleidoscope of her heart would begin to stir in its opposite direction,…….. effortless thought after effortless thought, one lovely, unexpected treasure after the next.”

(And all that was written in between)

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There is love and admiration in every word written here. The passion, verve, and idiosyncrasies your mother possessed paint the picture of a woman who lived big and lived well. I love that the written word was her love language as well, and that you continue her legacy with each new story you share. They are all filled with such incredible detail, and deep meaning. I'm always swept up in the currents of your mind. Thank you for sharing these experiences with us.

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Jan 12Liked by Adam Nathan

Obscenely gorgeous. Your voice over was excellent, too. I loved listening to you while I read (I'll go round two just listening, but the double was a treat), I hope this becomes a regular thing. It'd be magic to have you on car journeys!

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This is very beautiful. I have very little from my mum that is so precious and so heartfelt. Previous memories woven into beautiful prose. Thank you 🙏

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You did a voiceover!!! Like all your pieces, this one is an exquisite polished gem, so rich with metaphor and feeling. I really enjoyed listening to it and I think others will too. I know you’ve been nervous about reading your work, but it really is magical. Keep it up. I can tell you were trying to do it in one which is breathtakingly hard to do. Let me know if I can be of any technical assistance.

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Stunning story eloquently written.

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Feb 29Liked by Adam Nathan

A beautiful eulogy for a complex woman.

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You have mastered the tightrope walk that such a mercurial motherhood demands... finding your balance somehow between adoration and whatever that exasperated place is that is not hatred, but something at least acquainted with it. That we can see and admire her, warts and all is credit to her, certainly, but also credit to you. It is a great deal to hold in just two human arms, and allowing us to see her and still understand loving her, well that is rather wonderful.

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Jan 13Liked by Adam Nathan

Had to digest this one, your mother was a remarkable woman...

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Very much enjoyed your voice Adam....the way you write is served by how you tell it, the storytelling comes alive....no AI can do that...

I did dive into the Inner Life piece you suggested and haven't surfaced yet....I think Sam Kahn in onto something very important and it deserves several follow ups....thanks...

In the writer-call last Saturday you said you live for those meetings, aargh I dread them, fear them, but also long for the kind of contact that grows out of them. Your vulnerable expression of what the project did for you was very close to my experience, but I could never have said it like that...thanks


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I loved this, Adam. So many jolts of recognition, starting with the bundle of delicate blue airmail letters. We had a similar bundle--my father’s letters to my mother from the year he was in Vietnam (very early ‘60s). Sadly, when they passed, I became the keeper of those letters but before I could read them, they disappeared. As if he reclaimed them from the beyond.

I also thought of my mother’s own memorial with her friends’ stories, and of her epic letter-writing. I can see where your yearly Christmas letter tradition came from. ☺️

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What a beautiful reflection.

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An exposed heartstring, tugged by these swirling memories of your mother; reverberations cross the Atlantic and vibrate into my little workroom in England, where I had just been writing about my own mother. I think heartstrings might sound like harpstrings when they stretch across oceans - perhaps that's what makes your stories sing so colourfully and carry so far! Fanciful nonsense but heartfelt - I am utterly beguiled by these Scheherazade tales, thank you!

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