Diary – Saturday

I keep on re-making myself through the writing.

I go back over old stories that I only wrote as desperate responses to writing classes that I thought might have some answers.

I am in those stories – they are not so much stories as portraits – this is why they are never, these days, completed.

I say that, but some of them achieve a completion.

Others continue to hang in the air.

I go back and change them – an indication of where I have grown.

 

 

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