In my early twenties, when I was living in Santa Fe, I read War and Peace cover to cover. For pleasure. I was so immersed in it, I began buying a smoky Russian tea and fixed it the same way they do in the book. There in the high desert in our adobe house, I would drink cups of Russian tea and read and read. I was so obsessed toward the end, I made up my mind to travel to Tolstoy’s grave to pay homage.