Sitting next to my desk in my home office are four stacks of books, varying in height. (I start a new stack when the previous begins to tumble.) Many are unread, some are partially completed and others have been read many times.
Almost all that I read is nonfiction. Looking at the nearest stack, I see "Blessed Unrest," by Paul Hawken, "How Paris Became Paris," by Joan DeJean, "Making Space: How the Brain Knows Where Things Are," by Jennifer Groh, "Searching for Robert Johnson,...
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