There are moments. Small precious moments. A nibble here when doing my laundry, a small bite when riding the N Judah. I try not to devour the pages. The time exists in vague spurts, the moments few and far between. Still, it is possible to read. Let it not be said that I sacrificed my duties while commandeering the vessel.
Lately, I've been reading William Gibson's Pattern Recognition, which represents the second Gibson book I've read in the past month. My return to Gibson reminds me of an e
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