It’s the sort of afternoon that rewards patience: long stretches of nothing but blue sky, then a burst of noise and precision, gone again before I’ve really processed it, leaving only the smoke trail hanging there as proof it happened.
Alexandra
Between the Lines moves between the political and the personal, the historical and the immediate—food, art, travel, and the long view. If that sounds wide, it is. The world is wide.
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Occasional reflections on what I see, read, and try to understand
Between the Lines 
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