
Nowadays I only have a slim chance to sleep through the night without waking up once. Usually, this small, scary, gap, in obscurity, unless the moon is high and not surrounded by obese clouds, is propitious to thinking about writing. In my most sober moments of reflection, what scares me most is the prospect of starting on a new book.
For if starting is (relatively) easy, finishing, and leaving behind, is another story. Don’t we all know it, if ever we were serious about writing? But what would make me do it? This is a deep, and nigh impossible question to answer, at least in the light of day, and perhaps the subject for another post, another time. However, there are pointers, one being the need to write
Inspired also by Three Things Challenge #M590
Picture: John La Farge, “The Fish” (or “The Fish and Flowering Branch”) window, about 1890 - source


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