How is it to be alone? If being alone is a room; a grove of trees no taller than you; an abandoned lot – something in the southeastern corner, moving, not moving; a car speeding down a desert highway, the windows open, your favorite song whipping past you…will you enter?
Now, you think, she will write that it is in being in alone that you wait for and, perhaps, receive your stories. Maybe.
Maybe not.
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