Photo by Barnaby Evans

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We walk down the hill with our two dogs past New Rivers restaurant, where we’ve has so many elegant dinners, (without the dogs, of course) and then to the fires burning on the river. What a strange thing to do. How strange its effects. How very unexpected.

Everyone says New Englanders are cold. Americans are always in a rush. The world is impersonal. Phones are answered by machine which ask you questions – to which you have to press 1 or 2 or 6 to get to the appropriate person or to get information. There is no sense of community anymore. This is modern world, so isolated, so everyone for themselves only.

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