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The Purity of Imperfection
On a humid September evening, in the astonishingly not-well-air-conditioned children’s section of a cozy San Francisco…
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All We Need is a Writer Who Writes
There are points in a writer’s life when the creative juices are not flowing. The juices…
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Something To Say
What is there to say that hasn’t already been felt? I can create nothing new, only…
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Fiction: Human Obligations
In supplication the queen and king had knelt at the bottom of the steps, their foreheads…
