Claustrophobic inside my own life, as if the walls of my mind have been moving closer and closer, nearly touching, leaving no room for light or breath. The books once carefully arranged on their shelves are now lost to the years of what I used to call greatness. The few that remain are gathering mould between their pages.
This is the headspace in which I begin this book.
In search of a spark.
— 17 hours, 1 min ago
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