actually writing again

The book. Ah, the Book. It's actually getting written, and I shouldn't be surprised by that, but I am. It always seemed like something I was simply striving toward, working through, playing with, playing in. It wasn't a thing, fully defined, unshakeable. No, I molded, twisted, excised constantly. I was never satisfied. I'm not sure I am even now. But I was never comfortable with that. The Book…