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… the early years with David and Charlotte were the happiest of my life. David and I would stay up reading Yeats together and in the mornings we’d take Charlotte for a walk through the woods. The house was unspeakably lovely. In the fall, the leaves would turn every sort of color and we make a fire every night from dead branches we’d picked up on our walks. That lasted for about three or four years until David started drinking more and I ran away into my work. He was always so jealous of me. Jealous of my creativity. Though he would never say it….
