When I write for myself, I write more authentically—the cocoon cracks, and my pure self emerges.
Someone told me that even sea slugs can learn to write, so here I am, writing my time away.
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The woman said, ' I am a sinking sea slime; slimy, cold, leathery, shapeless. I live in the mud at the bottom of the sea, listening to i...
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I’ve never been a friend of November, but lately I’ve been trying to learn to appreciate it more. So I wrote two sentences in my black-paged...
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An old man sat beside me, gazing at the painting of infinity. Though we did not know each other and had arrived at our own times, following ...
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