I’ve had success before with a whittling knife.
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Writing Well
I am dumbfounded and profoundly sad.
His appearance toggled a switch in my brain.
She is both gorgeous and uniquely unimpressed by me.
Mine was the privilege of witnessing them all.
The stories draw me in to their generative orb.
His gullet is a gulch gone dry.
Dream is imagination holding court.
She conjures the ferocity of foxes.
They seem mortal enough when I read about them.