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By Erin O’Riordan I sat perfectly still. Or, as perfectly still as a human being can while sitting cross-legged on a flat wooden bench in Shiojiri Nawa. At that moment, the butterfly landed on me. The way he flew should have been my first clue. Butterflies flit; they dip and dive, they meander, they stroll. [...]
21Jan2010 | Editor | 0 comments | Continued