I went to New Orleans for five days when I was...what. Twelve? Thirteen? I think I was thirteen. I clutched my tattered Anne Rice book with me wherever I went, in hopes I ran into her at, I dunno, Cafe du Monde or something. I never did. But I carried that damn book everywhere, just in case
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btw i think i sent you an email at zito_zen_curve but i don't remember . . .
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Katharine
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