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In: Books, Travel, Writing

Or, so some readers said when I started appearing online without a certain headpiece. A raffia crown, tied up with a faded ribbon.

I remember when I found my first—and still my only—Helen Kaminski. In a city not unlike the one in which I type. Ordered blocks that marched down to cold water. I wandered into a Victorian arcade, a layer from another time, and I lifted her off the rack, and I slid her on. Continue Reading