Fragments

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For why do our thoughts turn to some gesture of a hand, the fall of a sleeve, some corner of a room on a particular anonymous afternoon, even when we are asleep, and even when are are so old that our thoughts have abandoned other business? What are all these fragments for, if not to be knit up finally?

Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson

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Off to Chapel Hill for a long weekend to see sisters, old friends, and Nettles and The Hill and Wood play! Very excited. Be back on Monday with photos and various thoughts.

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