Essay – Slipping Through My Fingers, or, ABBA Revisited
By Agnes Krup “What would you like to listen to?” I asked my daughter after we had threaded our rental car into the heavy traffic on the Brooklyn-Queens-Expressway. “ABBA,” she said without hesitation. “And I won’t listen to any of your other music the whole trip, Mama.” What a difference a year makes. Last year August on same trip, the…
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