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On top of Rigi Kulm
I would never just show up and demand anything, no matter how American I might be
New England Winter
Plowed snow piled over two stories high. Temperatures so frigid I am wearing long underwear to bed, with a down comforter, flannel sheets and two blankets.
Will Clint Eastwood be waiting for us,
an open bottle of whiskey in his hand?
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There is no way to get to where we think we need to be without swimming through that crowd.