That Table is a Stage: A Review of Alexander Hamilton

My friend and I clambered onto the picnic table. The damp wood felt unsteady underneath me; I shifted my feet. Then, flashing my friend a grin, I began to sing: “Pardon me. Are you Aaron Burr, sir?” “That depends. Who’s asking?” And so it continued—us standing on the picnic table, singing as loud as we…

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