I'm taking a break for a little while.

When I was 15, I read a novel called Post Office. It was written by Charles Bukowski. A drunk, a misanthrope. Looking back, I can’t even say that he was a consistently great writer. Or a decent person. Only that he was honest. Said what he thought.

I remember reading one specific line in that book, and it made me pause. It made me pause because somethin…

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