Ah. Of my dozen or so favorite stories they are mostly Bradbury. My copy of The October Country (with the Goya dustjacket) is spine-cracked and coffee-spotted.

"Uncle Einar", which I first read somewhere around sixth grade and probably fifty times since, is simply the most amazing love story I can think of (With the possible exception of "A Medicine for Melancholy", which knits a lovely tapestry from the crudest suggestion available).

God up the chimney!

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