There’s a moment I look for in almost every piece of writing.
It’s difficult to describe, but I know it when I feel it.
A line says one thing, but carries another thing underneath it entirely. The sentence itself is simple enough. Clear enough. But beneath it, there’s a second pulse. A quieter meaning moving underneath the words like a current under dark water.
That’s usually where the real writing begins.
Not in what is being explained.
In what is being implied.


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