Rocks for Justice

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Ann became aware in second grade she had an overdeveloped sense of justice when she whacked Bill Bailey (yes that was his name) over the head with her lunch box for cutting in the milk line. Now some forty years later she wields a pen instead of a metal box and probes her visceral reaction to injustice. Word-crafter, truth seeker, incurable idealist, she is used to people telling her "but that isn’t how the world works". Instead of nodding in agreement, Ann asks, why not? A quirky sense of humor and the deep belief in the impermanence of life, not all of her tales are as heavy as would seem with such a weighty topic as Justice. Sarcasm and dark humor race through much of her work. Because without injustice, how would we know what justice means?

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