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From a Rocking Chair in the Library

The diffused sunlight reflected by the untrampled snow is blinding. Only the paved pathways have been cleared. The students honor this. Or the pathways’ planner understood their instincts.

This is a serious place. No snowmen. Vertebrae-crushing backpacks. Brisk and determined paces.

But like flowers, we all turn to face the light, squinting.

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