a humanoid pile of books and paper

Hallowed greetings, dear reader. I’m in the kitchen where I live. Where I live there’s a woodstove that burns timber, and it is delightfully toasty right now. But if you’ve ever lived in one of Philly’s Victorian era houses (or any old house anywhere), you’ll understand me when I say the air in the rest of the house is comparatively brisk. Winter beckons.

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