It’s true, a writer’s life can be lonely, yet, we can fly to any city in the world, put ourselves in a precarious situation, go back in time and change things around, take on a lover in France, write a three word poem or a monstrous novel, and, if things get too dangerous or the lover in France becomes too obnoxious, there’s always the delete button.
How’s your afternoon going?
solitude
how still the silhouette
of a bird
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