It was a dark and stormy night.

Madeleine L’Engle is dead, long live Madeleine L’Engle.

She introduced me to tessering tessering in A Wrinkle in Time, and provided me with a quote that lived on my wall in high school and college. (Frustratingly, I can’t remember it, nor can I find it in the Interslice.)

Last night, Jason and I drove to Boston, and on the way, I read aloud the first two chapters of WiT. The consensus was that Charles Wallace, in all his infinite wisdom, is a little annoying. Still, the book holds great re-reading value, and we both enjoyed it.

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