So we sit having a final skinny bagel with full egg and cheese for breakfast in the 'au bon pain' café (there's no capitalization), this branch of which is at the better end of Massachusetts Avenue in the center of Boston, Massachusetts. Fifteen days have elapsed since a blog post, but it feels like fifty years, so many things having happened, a lifetime of great people, sights and literary discoveries, many of which I shall reveal in future posts here. In the meantime, it's a last wander around Boston before Logan airport, jetlag recovery in a hotel in London, and the drive home which never feels like home: real home is out there, these last two weeks being filled with authors' houses, statues, plaques and graves of authors, underground interstate tunnels, merging lanes, open roads, and many literary marvels.
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On our return to Boston last week, we noticed that this place is no longer there. Ah well.
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