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I noticed this flower in Battery Park last weekend after visiting the Poets House’s annual showcase of every volume of poetry published this year in the US. The photo is my metaphor for the roomful of books– brilliant, flame-hued beauty with its roots around the stones in the fountain. I didn’t really want to take any photos of the exhibit, partly because I was too busy reading, touching the beautiful paper, admiring the fonts. I think I was partly embarrassed to have such a room all to myself on a Saturday morning.

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