Story is a loose thread pulled until the whole spool unwinds, all the words tumbling out like wasps from a struck nest. The writer arranges them into pleasing patterns of words that sting, of words that placate, of words that provoke. The writer then is the papery hull of the nest, tattered and empty.
Until the next story comes along. Now buzzing with ideas. Building a new nest.
Just a thought 34
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