The author, "James Milan", locked himself in a language prison, severing his links with the world around him until he lost his ability to enjoy the pleasures of simple life. Then here he is, at a certain moment, that he could not finish writing a novel. It is revised, searched, crossed out, but to no avail. Faced with the horror of the whiteness of leaves, he succumbs to thinking at the present moment, drowning in his night meditations and memories in simple phrases, free of decoration. https://children69.blogspot.com/
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