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When a poet walks into a printer’s and says, I have written a book, I want to publish it, their eyes light up like neon stars. “It has to be on sumptuous papers and beautifully bound,” says the poet, and the printer’s salesman purrs, “Right this way, madam,” and leads her into an impressively empty […]

To the person who decided that every cafe, restaurant, waiting room, bus station, bus, and public space had to have a television screen in it: I disagree with you.