Substrate

#january #helena-fitzgerald #holidays
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a nervous, obligated curiosity We had witnessed the end of its long southbound journey out of mundanity and darkness. It was one more of the small, strange, lit up events the city offers, the tree like a hallucination, devoured by the darkening avenues, brought in to offer a visible reason to exclaim about something, the city inventing something upon which to rejoice. The holidays feel overwhelmingly personal, but perhaps the best thing about them is that they are not personal at all. look to the unnamed days of January and February
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