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Stories

I am dedicated to my stories. I love my stories. I am so tired.

Lines to preserve, cutting them out of the present scene,

A shaft of sunlight covered the floor as I stood flush against the wall. It extended just to my toes, no further. I brushed the line between light and dark with my toe, lost in my vague, rambling thoughts, till the sound of footsteps brought me to awareness.

I see this paragraph in a studio scene instead.

As I remove so much in this story, I see the real characters and situations revealed. It is so much different than what I would write now, and yet I feel impressed by the simplicity and directness of the plot. I feel like I have a lot to learn by looking back into an uncomplicated storyline.

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