Birth is a dream, spontaneous and innate. Death, on the other hand, is a slow, false, divine calamity. It is like love.
I'm hyper-aware of my last name and it's lack of Derby or Horowtiz-esque sonorousness. Moffett sounds like a type of couch cushion. I guess I'm hoping to start a wave of first-name usage.
I'm a total ignoramus about the technical aspects but I have to say that it's awfully purty now.
I was thinking what I usually think about when I write: what the next word should be, whether my character should be an emu farmer or a wallaby farmer, the searing pain in my right temple.
I'm pretending to be a vegetarian. Were I not, I believe I probably still wouldn't eat a wallaby.
Your field report might be the reason someone detoured six blocks, say, on their way to the chiropractor.
