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2009-09-18 - 3:02 p.m.

Throughout the trip I just took, all through those cities, in hotel rooms, on airplanes, while on long train rides, I was reading The World According to Garp. Something happens when you've got such richness both outside and on the inside. You're looking forward to what's next, on two fronts. It's a special place to live your life, and though you can't live there forever, when you are able, everything turns green like it does in early June, or soft like a wool sweater, or rich like good cake.

For a while, it was cappuccinos standing up at the bar, sausages and beer at night in the cafes in Vienna, prosciutto on everything in Italy. Then it was Garp. And though the book, at the two-thirds mark, gets suddenly very dark, I was already deep into it and neither of us were letting go. Flying during the day, flying at night, and that's all I've ever wanted.

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