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Wandering the fields, rendezvousing in a cowshed, getting out the paper dolls
By Our ReadersMarch 1987Playing board games, returning a rented cap and gown, counting the days
By Our ReadersJanuary 1987I’m sitting at my desk watching the moon rise over the Berkshires; I’m in an apartment; I’m not in California
By Our ReadersDecember 1986The library is a trap; it is the subversion of secrecy; it is the first and best sanctuary of the life of the mind
By Our ReadersOctober 1986A book from childhood, a rainbow, a Grateful Dead show
By Our ReadersSeptember 1986Two World Wars and the Great Depression, the old Firesign Theater “Everything You Know Is Wrong,” a wet comb
By Our ReadersAugust 1986Inner voice as intuitive guide, the undeniable presence of a voice, the voice of silence
By Our ReadersJuly 1986Finding then losing then finding again a pocketknife, losing yourself in a bookstore, losing your sex drive
By Our ReadersJune 1986Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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