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An afternoon in Thistlewood
I had wandered through provinces whose names had once existed only upon old maps. I had listened to philosophers debating questions without answers, followed explorers along forgotten paths, admired remarkable collections, and lingered in gardens where the ordinary and the impossible appeared to coexist quite naturally.
Jul 42 min read
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The Library
It was no longer a window. It had become a door. Or perhaps it had always been a door and I had simply failed to notice.
Jun 131 min read
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