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June 11, 2008

Last night I finished reading E.M. Forster’s Howards End. The first hundred pages took me ages to get through; I kept turning to other books for relief. But then, all of a sudden the threads came together and I was caught up in the drama and the scandals and the beauty and the tragedy of it all. I read the final hundred pages, sitting on the balcony, squinting in the darkness for the last chapter, because I didn’t want to pause to switch on the light.

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