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Nothing will come of nothing August 4, 2009

Posted by janehaynes in : Uncategorized , trackback

Since I finished the Proust bit I cannot imagine ever having anything to write about again. I suppose that’s what I love about the mystery of writing, I feel like I am a jackdaw on the look out for something that sparkles. A thief. I talked quite a bit, (it’s all bits and they both died far too young, but one took to his bed – almost from childhood – while the other kept on travelling; even when he was spitting up blood.


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