they were a bit like English taverns, which had effigies instead of names, so that people like Jack, who could not read, could know them.

Do you know,” he said, “it’s twenty years since you wrote Notes from a Small Island?” (This was my first book about Britain. It did awfully well there.) “Twenty years?” I replied, amazed at how much past one can accumulate without any effort at all.

Fact: upon locking yourself our of your apartment you will immediately need to use the bathroom. Fact: and then you will stand in place and watch your door. You will just stare. As though rebuffed by it. As though it has done this to you.

Written By Augusten Burroughs

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