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(Last Thursday I finished the final pen-and-ink drawing of the 40 I’d planned for Jane’s book of poetry, Dialogues of the Soul and Mortal Self in Time.1 I spent Friday checking the batch, then on Saturday morning I mailed them to Tam Mossman, Jane’s editor at Prentice-Hall. That afternoon we talked with a real estate agent, Debbie [not her real name], whom we’ve known for some time. Sunday we rested. And today we began house hunting.2
(From the outside only, Jane and I inspected several homes in Elmira. The first one we looked at — a bungalow on a Foster Avenue — intrigued us considerably. Our interest was hardly coincidental, though. Debbie had pointed out a photograph of it in a local real estate catalog, and we were quite aware that it bore a good resemblance to the house we’d considered buying in Sayre, Pennsylvania, in the spring of 1974.3 Besides being bungalows, both houses were of about the same age, and even of similar colors.
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