I am agog. I love your childhood room, while deploring rental in Greater Boston generally.

This post is really perfection. It is like, it almost is, the things it describes: reading it, one (this one, anyway) feels cozily ensconced in a nook bed with the best books and thoughts, while that elusive shimmering web of all the connections and implications of literature, art, history, and science seems to hover, about to let one in to its entire self rather than just a patch here and there.

P.