I've been writing more these days and the increased output has reached a place where I'm not completing what I start. If I were to psychoanalyse myself and I do, I'd have a lot to say. But we'll leave that for another time. See what I mean? On a certain level, I can easily feel disappointed and dejected about not being able to close the deal. Instead, I'm enjoying making connections that spin off into more ideas to write about. The beauty of incomplete writing is probably going to fall into place as they lead like a treasure trail to a magnificent book. Or maybe they'll remain breadcrumbs which get eaten by rodents. Either way, I'll keep writing.
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