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I stared at the shiny white paper looking for inspiraton- a thought, a word, a phrase to get me going – nothing materialized, only a blank cold sheet staring back at me. Usually, something came into my head, but I realized I was frozen with fear. Gripping my pen hard, I made a dark hole … Continue reading ‘Why I Wrote My Memoir’ (I Heard the Alps Call His Name) plus ‘Why Portugal?’
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