Today I’m feeling a genuinely unreasonable loathing for this project. I had a good day. I’m having a nice night. I’m sucking on a tiny lozenge of unnamed melancholy, which isn’t enough to bear examining. I just want to keep reading my book in the ticking silence, but there’s the noise of having to do this cutting across my avenue of escape. And now it’s done, but will I get back into the silence?

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