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I Spy by Walter Wick6/2/2023 ![]() ![]() Growing up in a family of five in East Granby, Conn., "we didn't have a television set, and I wasn't a reader," he said. He recalled "that sense of being totally absorbed and letting your mind go free." Though he is 51, with glints of gray in his sandy hair and brushy mustache, he remembers how it felt to spend boyhood hours engrossed in building card houses or stocking mud forts with tiny soldiers. Wick is an affable, quiet man who favors baggy khakis and big, wooly sweaters. "But I never dreamed I'd have one myself." Wick said, gazing around the 12,000-square foot expanse. "I've read about studios like this maybe I've even seen some," Mr. ![]() In one corner a miniature village, blanketed with baking-soda-and-plastic-foam snow, stands ready for its close-up. Upstairs lies a vast, bright space strewn with nostalgic playthings, seasonal baubles, stray plastic animals on every surface. One of only two buildings left standing on a forlorn little street, it's a windowed brick behemoth with a stone inset that reads, "Hartford Fire Department 1920." The first floor is largely devoted to storage and a garage. ![]()
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