"And when her work was stumbled upon, it's finders were in awe. Marveling at the literature obtained by they're delicate fingertips only to be filled with discontent in learning The Writer had stopped. It took a few pleadings but once again, she sat; by the window, pen in hand, tea on sill, and onward yet down went her mind into the depths of itself. Adventuring, marveling, feeling, and expressing again. Scroll down, the strokings of her pen await you..."