“He says, "Keats for my Keats. Look inside."I gently open the cover. Inside, written in pencil,is an old inscription.1903, To my love.-SUnderneath is more pencil, written in Brooklyn's neat print.Even Keats speaks of chaos.There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music.All my love,B”
Jillian Dodd
Stalk Me
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