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These posts are not highly crafted – they’re mostly streams of letters flowing from my fingers that I grant a cursory edit to before hitting publish. Whether they should be or not, I can never totally make up my mind, but whether they will remain so is pretty definite.

Occasionally I entertain the idea of cleansing the world of them. They’re clumsy and impulsive and inconsequential. Perhaps they’re a reflection of my sense of self right now. Yikes. But I also find myself drawn to them. There is something within them that deserves to exist. Moreover, it’s something that deserves to be nurtured.

There will be time for editing and planning and structure, I’m sure. There will be time for crafting. But for whatever reason, this isn’t it. This is the raw material. I don’t know why it wants to be on display like this, really, but it does. Different words come out in private. Indeed, I regularly find myself treading over well-worn paths in these posts, but differently. So onwards I go.

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