“Like any literary tourist, I am searching for traces of something. Do buildings absorb traces of their former inhabitants? Can yesterday’s private joys and pains retire—like stale nicotine—into the walls?”
A literary tour of Elizabeth Bishop in Manhattan.

“Like any literary tourist, I am searching for traces of something. Do buildings absorb traces of their former inhabitants? Can yesterday’s private joys and pains retire—like stale nicotine—into the walls?”

A literary tour of Elizabeth Bishop in Manhattan.

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