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The Silence of the Solitary Writer

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A person alone in a dying forest holding a weak light.

I’m not planning on posting links to this anywhere, and if you are here–on this site–and see this, know that there’s not much here other than lamentation and justification.

Why am I writing this? Posting this here? To vent. I can shout into the void and feel the relief of having shouted without offending anyone’s ears. Will someone read this? Maybe. But I’m betting not too many someones.

Because the flow has ended. The story has stopped. There are no new chapters and no new content. That’s all you need to know.

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