Back in the hallway, to my left, is a tidy and clean bathroom. Further down the hall is Putnam’s office, or what I believe he might just call his writing room since there is a desk, chair, and a shelf of his written works under glass. I deem his office quite the spectacle for lack of a better description. As purple-blue light creeps into the room from two overhead windows, I view a tire-sized papier-mâché sea turtle hanging down from the center of its ceiling: massive, eerie looking, blue-green-gray. Upon further inspection, the room seems to be a museum of various turtles entailing all shapes and sizes. Photographs of box, snapping, mud, pleurodira, carbonemys, kinosternidae, and larachelus turtles hang on the walls. Stuffed animals, paperweights, wooden and glass statues of turtles fill
