Winslow Junker was to be a character in a novel I’ve never written. He was witty, intelligent, daring, and had a mysterious sidekick named Guido. Over the years I’ve come to realize he was really an improved version of me, without the self-consciousness, guilt, expectations, doubts, fears, egotism, naïveté, ignorance, faulty assumptions, silly notions, desperate hopes and host of other frailties I see myself loaded down with. While I slog along trying to keep this baggage from dragging on the ground, he strides lightly on into life, unencumbered. At rare times I’m able to keep to his footprints.

— Tom Hardy

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