. . . is the loneliest number?
. . . singular sensation, every little step she takes?
. . . voice, singing in the darkness?
. . . is the number of Jane poems left to write.
Champagne is in the fridge, Mansfield Park is by my side, and "The End" is very near indeed.
This morning's writing session with Angela (
angeladegroot) was spent partially in tears,
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I'll be keeping my ears open for that champagne to pop!
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