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I walked from Columbus Circle to Greenwich Village on a cold, sunny day last week. I had no good reason to walk, other than feeling good in the sunbeams, and thinking I might see something interesting. I found a small, trendy bookstore on Jane Street, I think, and this book was right in front of me. Unpretentious, when I felt surrounded by pretense. I read most of it on my plane ride home. Home feels different because of the words.I'm pretty sure I was meant to find this book. It spoke, so clear...