This time last week, I was cruising at 38,000 ft, hurtling
across the sea from Paris toward California. Thinking of my backpack- that cumbersome
friend- mummified in plastic and carelessly tossed into the airplane’s hold, I
couldn’t help but wince. We’ve forged a sort of Tom Hanks and Wilson-style
relationship now, as I’ve grown accustomed to the hulking thing taking up the
space beside me.
Here we are on the train to Cambridge. Maybe I should put a
hat and some sunglasses on it, eh?
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