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Reading, of late, has slowed to a dignified crawl, not for want of desire, but because exhaustion has perfected its choreography around my evenings. One returns home with the agreeable illusion that the day’s labour has concluded, only to discover that “personal work”, that most elastic of categories, awaits with renewed enthusiasm. Teaching, curiously enough, is the least taxing component; it is the extracurricular anthropology that extracts its toll. There is a peculiar fat