Sign in yard, amidst boxes of stuff, somewhere between Belmont and Hawthorne in the 30's: Knock on the front door to pay for items--proceeds go to my college so DON'T STEAL!
& I wonder if the kid playing in the dirt in the front yard (maybe nine years old, on his belly near the drain spout next to the house) is the "my."
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On reading and teaching and random thoughts, plus things observed and overheard... by a writer who grew up making zines.
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