The Pilgrim’s Progress

I will never stop missing the brushes with history. Who am I without towers and turrets and domes and basilicas? As it turns out, I have become a pilgrim.

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Hastening On

This morning, like every morning, I shut the door behind me and walked through the morning-lit park into town. Except this morning, the birds that graced the frost-laden lawn were gulls and mallards, not the chattering jays of Riegrovy.

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