Tuesday, February 27, 2007


I am reading the playscript for proof. I wish I had written it.

For me there is writing I love, and even rarer those things I wish I had written, or felt I could have written. It is like sharing some unseen affinity with the author.

These reading moments haunt me as if a ghost or spirit had entered my home and sits looking at me with my head bent into a book.


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