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Okay, maybe I *did* write at length about a cursed Brookline triple decker in a certain book of mine. But sometimes I actually do miss living on what I dubbed The Tallest Hill in Brookline, where we had to climb four flights of hell stairs to get from the train to the apartment (where there were more stairs). Here’s a photo of me appearing to be happily carrying groceries up those hell stairs in 90 degree weather. It’s also a fantastic metaphor for my writing process, and also why I believe this photo belongs on my website’s front page.