Many writers have used the word in clever ways. It’s an intelligent almost magical way to say “garbage” or “trash.” The yuck of life. The crumbs we leave behind. Writers love to play with the word.
The Boston winter can be notoriously brutal. But if you live here long enough, you start to recalibrate, writes. You think of 40 degrees as balmy. You contemplate an iced macchiato in February. And ...