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| | Life & Leisure |
 | | I was not one of Dom Moraes’ circle of intimates; the few encounters I had with the poet (the writer, the columnist, the reporter, even the cheerful, committed drinker: all these stemmed from this primary version of his self) happened in the evening of his life, after he’d crossed 60. |
 | | I never met the Dom Moraes who grappled with his mother’s importunate demons, who struggled with the formidable shadow cast by his father, the legendary Frank Moraes, who told his wife, Henrietta, that he was just going out to buy cigarettes and walked out of the house and the marriage. |
 | | Dom Moraes passed it on, whatever it was that he had: sometimes it was kindness, sometimes stories, sometimes just a drink, sometimes his ability to remember uncomfortable things, sometimes the promise that other poets would come along who would share his gift, and shape it. |
| www.business-standard.com /common/storypage.php?hpFlag=Y&chklogin=N&autono=157833&leftnm=lmnu4&lselect=0&leftindx=4 (1000 words) |
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