I always thought of myself as a writer. But it has been so long since anything was actually written in the vein of a story for me. The blurb from yesterday was early May when I had no book and only paper on the train... which I could do again, except even then it took me months to get it typed up. (The sheet it was scribbled on was by then water
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I, for one, always enjoyed what you'd written. It would be lost opportunity if your voice was silent when you could have richly added to the conversation. I hope you still write. I hope you're doing well. And I hope you are happy in the places you call home.
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