[ON INDEFINITE HIATUS]
How can someone who is lost in their maze of a mind be able to create wonderful things?
The answer is quite simple. Sparks.
Tiny sparks that blink into life from the embers of procrastination. Sparks that ignite the fire in me to at least write because that is something I wish to never give up on; sparks that let me ungracefully pour out all that there is into words, and bless me to feel alive again.
It's those very sparks that let all these tales bloom into what they are.
It's those very sparks that create the maze of me.
[A collection of short stories.]
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