Surprised to learn over the weekend (from local paper) that the John Hay Library, across the street from my place of work, houses (in a secure vault) Walt Whitman's personal copy of Leaves of Grass. (& that's a bust of Dante, outside the building, on the left.)

Seems lately I'm travelin' along with my own daily leaf-grass kind of thing (Lanthanum). Or maybe more like tree rings. Lanthanum gradually extending as a calendar-line through cyberspace.

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