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  • I've been crying in my coffee all morning. David Bowie is dead. The soundtrack has stopped, the soundtrack plays on. The stardust is over, the stardust shines on. The moondust, life dust, gender-fluid dust, invention dust, life lived in creative dust, the strums, thrums, Major Toms. The sassy, jazzy, rest in pop, universal dust band will never die. By any and all means, the Bowie dust rotates the world on.

    (Photo by Susan, September 2013, Art Gallery of Ontario)
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