It was one of those early April afternoons when the light in New Jersey already hints at summer, but the air is still cool, still hesitant, as if it doesn't quite trust its own promise. I walked up Mercer Street, past the white wooden houses with their black shutters, under the plane trees whose buds were just opening, looking for number 112.
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An Afternoon with Albert Einstein in Princeton, New Jersey - April 1955
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