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He seems to know just what to do with language. It hovers beside him, a fluid and mischievous thing, like Prospero’s Ariel. And so Young Hawkes weaves spells with words and we sit enrapt.
he simply maintains an economy of interaction that is spare in its elegance.
While there are many things beyond our control, I’ve always thought the cruellest is that we mortals are not told when our last glance is just that.
