The author wrote…
The printer printed….
The publisher published…
The novel was sold…
But the librarian, who should know the value of the novel most, saw fit only its use as paper to be burnt…
Those seeking, needing, wanting warmth thought not to ask what the source of the heat was, so desperate was their need… Our need… We all…
The author wrote…
The printer printed….
The publisher published…
The novel was sold…
But the librarian, who should know the value of the novel most, saw fit only its use as paper to be burnt…
Those seeking, needing, wanting warmth thought not to ask what the source of the heat was, so desperate was their need… Our need… We all…
These are the words this thought invokes in me…
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Keep writing, Tunji.
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Missed your works my dear. :-)
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Maybe I should do better this year. Thanks Celestine, for consistent patronage.
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