Good morning, Baltimore. Was walking this a.m., not thinking about anything in particular, and suddenly my mind cracked open like a cheap watermelon and I saw the approach (unorthodox, unexpected) to an essay due by summer’s end. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to compare myself to Dickens.)
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It’s not only that I wouldn’t compare myself to Dickens as a writer, I can’t even compare myself to him as a walker. kottke.org/12/02/charle....
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