One day, it could have been last week, last month, last year, it no longer matters, Harry Eyres woke, dragged himself out of bed, completed his morning ritual, maybe three of the many “S”s that face working adults most mornings, coffeed his bloodstream and sat to stare at the screen.
Lost.
Blank.
Space.
A white canvas unadorned by the [...]
Someone Said
A work is finished when we can no longer improve it, though we know it to be inadequate and incomplete. We are so overtaxed by it that we no longer have the power to add a single comma, however indispensable
— E. M. Cioran-
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