An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself. " --Charles Dickens



Sometimes when I'm working the late shift at Powell's, and it's a little cold on the 4th floor labeling books, and I'm holding some crumbling old copy of Racine's "Phedre" in my cold fingers, I pretend that I'm in a Dicken's story. Maybe I'm Bob Cratchett, working late, huddling in my scarf over parchment, burning the candle low on Christmas Eve. It actually makes me feel kind of cozy and helps me get through until we close at 11pm.

Here are some downtown shots of the lovely lovely snow. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

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