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V E RY F O R G E T F U L The Obamas’ pre-inaugural visit Lincoln lounges in his chair. The clang and whoop of party din— of actual people, not plastic politicians— braced for by a guard with a flashlight, lantern-type: Hope. Obama and his girls stand in the dark, Booth in the shadows. Carpe diem? The sun does rise again. Washington’s obelisk rises too, billowing burnt fuel, virtually starbound, the only firework. We forget how the rational ennobles. 28 ...

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