BITING THE BULLET,
I FALL ASUNDER
The mysterious blank page is so alluring to the writer – the texture of the paper, the promise of what it will do to the pen. It is not the same prestige, however, that greets the photographer. It is daunting and hardly a promise of anything at all.

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This entry was posted on March 3, 2010 at 1:52 pm and is filed under 1 . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed
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January 12, 2011 at 8:25 am
I love you.
I’ll call soon.