If, on a winter's night a traveler outside the town of Malbork, leaning from a steep slope without fear of wind or vertigo, looks down into the gathering shadow...on the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon around an empty grave, what story there awaits its end? -italo calvino
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Lit Crit is the BEST
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take that, Robert Frost. Reflective units of rhyme, thank you VERY much. More on this later, when i *dont'*have to be up in < 6 hours.
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