I just finished reading The Baba Yaga’s Daughter by C.E. Murphy… it was divine. I felt like I was in an old library, hidden in a corner with a small lamp, devouring a leather-bound book I found inconspicuously mixed in with the fiction when it should have been shelved with ‘fact’. Like it was handwritten in script with ink and quill and the owner
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Quick, let me get my camera so I can take a photo!
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I've been doing a lot of writing, though.
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