I typed those words yesterday, but I don't feel like I've finished yet. Some things are still bugging me, but in a vague way I can't quite pin down. I'll see if next week brings any enlightenment. I hope so; I'm kind of looking forward to starting the next thing.
I was watching another one of those Bollywood movies last night (yes, we call this obsession; this is the way I do everything), where Salman Khan plays a half-Italian who goes to India to learn singing from a master. After the teacher accepts him as his student, he tells him the difference between a false singer and a true singer. A hungry singer is a false singer, because he sings from his stomach; a true singer always sings from his heart.
Which is a much more poetic way of saying what I was trying to say earlier this week about my writing.
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