Sunday, March 23, 2008
Scribblings
Suddenly scribblings of ink and lead start to appear on the white pages. They twist and bend, slowly forming markings and words.
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As I wake up naked in a barren dune sea, I have nothing other than my own consciousness and a strange journal to keep me company. In it, are entries from various writers from different times and places. Each telling its own story, as if writing its own journal. Me, I'm just the storyteller, telling their stories to you.