When I met her she lived in a house made of plain unvarnished wood or it was perhaps built of yarn of every color. We sat at her coffee table and looked at her collection of worries. She keeps them in a blueglass mason jar that she keeps in her window. She is strange and wonderful and I feel exasperated by my inability to comunicate what I know
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I had to give you that many exclamation points.
I have no doubt that you could do anything you wanted. Let's pack our bags and head off to write somewhere.
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Except not.
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