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Eight years ago, I was drawn into Keats's world by Andrew Motion's biography. Soon I was reading back and forth between Keats's letters and his poems. The letters were fresh, intimate and irreverent, as though he were present and speaking. The Keats spell went very deep for me.
My father could have been deported because on his immigration application he said that he was a printer, obviously because he didn't want them to be checking his writings.

