November is upon us, but I have chosen to linger in midsummer. This desire to dawdle instead of hurtling towards the end of 2021 has got nothing to do with the year. I have no affection for it, and am relieved that its Kafkaesque days will soon be over.
Midsummer, however, has its moments, and I plan to enjoy those for as long as I can, if only in the chimeric topography of my imagination. For we have sailed, Mark Twain and I; we have embarked upon a voyage, a lecture trip across the British Empire. His travelogue, Following the
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