Late night. A single candle burns in a garret. A young(ish) woman sits alone at a wooden table, kneading her frozen fingers. She sighs, and from a distance comes the faintest sound of a bell ringing. The candle flickers. This is because she has sighed again. She is doing an awful lot of sighing (it’s melodramatic, and fits in well with her surroundings). Suddenly, the candle burns brighter and the bell rings out, crisp and clear.
Me: Hello? Are you there? Please? Hello?
My Brain: Yeah. Howryeh.
Me: Oh, thank heavens. I thought you were never going to answer.
My Brain: Well, for a while there I wasn’t sure I was going to either.
Me: It’s just that I’m in a bit of a bind.
My Brain: I know, yeah. You’re sighing a lot.
Me: It’s getting really late, you see, and I have no blog post for tomorrow –
My Brain: The…
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