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Day 149
But in me in me in me – what’s in me that’s of me?
14 hr ago
2
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Day 149
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Day 148
Do all writers lie about how their writing happens?
May 28
6
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Day 148
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Day 147
We hide ourselves.
May 27
5
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Day 147
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Day 146
There were his patter songs, round corners on slippy floors. There was the haiku of his sleep beneath falling petals.
May 26
3
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Day 146
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Day 145
Oh, Mossy, said Leigh. He just looks as if he’s asleep. And he did – except the fur on his forehead, close to his awkwardly folded left ear, was spread…
May 25
4
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Day 145
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Day 144
A snowcat.
May 24
5
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Day 144
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Day 143
‘He looks very healthy,’ the woman from the vet’s said, on the phone. But he’s dead.
May 23
6
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Day 143
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Day 142
Let my heart’s blood turn the left-hand page red, then soak through until all the pages turn to stuck-together waves. Let my dead head fall on it, as a…
May 22
6
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Day 142
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Day 141
Mouse walks as if his back legs were metal stilts. When he sits, it looks like he’s a normal-shaped cat sitting on a tabby pouf.
May 21
2
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Day 141
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Inserted Page
Martin Amis gambled that it was far better to be mid-Atlantic, and heading Westwards, than parochial, and sinking into the English Channel.
May 21
9
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Inserted Page
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Day 140
The saint could say, Just because I’m a hypocrite doesn’t make you any less a destroyer.
May 20
2
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Day 140
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Day 139
I’ve been wondering whether we don’t need saints – climate saints, green saints.
May 19
2
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Day 139
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