A graffiti artist plans his “masterpiece” on the wall of a vacant building. He sprays a first stroke, a series of orange swirls. “You call that art?” taunts a rival gang member. The artist ignores him, the finished mural emblazoned in his mind. Glowing swirls are only...
The Winter of our Discontent. Those five words have been tossed about in various contexts within the English language for centuries. John Steinbeck enshrined the phrase in the title of his final novel, and he borrowed the line from Shakespeare. For those who suffer...
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