You'll think you're reading a memoir, and you'll think it's a memoir the more you read it, because there's this story thing that seems to keep happening, and it seems like I'm writing about myself, but I don't think this is a memoir. I don't think this is a memoir because as you'll see, by the time I stop writing, I don't exist. So that means to me, there really is no story because stories seem to be about things, and if the thing isn't actually a thing, or anything at all, then... See what I mean? I'm not trying to be clever, and I don't think I'm over-thinking this. When you get to the part where it stops, let me know what you think.
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THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
