Not far from the house I live in is the house where I spent much of my childhood. Down the street, a road dead-ends at an old bridge, still open for pedestrians and cyclists. It crosses an ancient ravine—wide for suburban Chicago—with a narrow ribbon of creek winding through woods at its bottom until it meets the open waters of Lake Michigan.

I read a fabulous book about William Blake by John Higgs titled, William Blake Vs The World. Why did I read this? I can’t remember specifically, but it came to be in my hands through the gods of literature, my favorite gods, while I was in one of their churches otherwise known as my local library…