The Meridian of Margaret O'Connor

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2026-05-12 17:33:06 -

I. The dust didn't just fall in May 1934—it consumed. It came off the plains like a wall, yellow and thick and smelling of crushed grass and pulverized topsoil, swallowing the horizon and the sky and the light until noon looked like midnight and the wind carried the sound of a thousand sandstorms hitting the side of a house that was already losing. Margaret O'Connor stood in the doorway of the...

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