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The Watch Repairer

He was a small man, gray, elderly, hesitating at the studio door as if unsure, a flutter of paper in his right hand. When I was aware of him, I was pinning…

A Weekend in Juarez

What I did was illegal. In 1955, I was living in California, married, when my “kid” sister, Muriel, called from New York. We had lost touch since she married Alfred Letourneur, a famous French…