Blog Posts
Disconnecting my pleasure in doing a thing from anybody’s reaction.
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In which the protagonists love what they labor at, interrupt love for labor, find love through labor, or, in the case of the last one, kidnap a sexist, egotistical boss and suspend him from the ceiling of his own country house.
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Instead of a grey cross made of ash imposed on my forehead, I received a certificate with a red cross in my email.
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Resurrecting my Read of the Week to ponder the humans of overland transport.
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