finally finished his novel. Years of tireless work and the months of drought, deletions and new accounts, an eternity of silence in black and fears never end ... All those moments of solitude to change, built to last a perfect ending.
The reread slowly. Savoring. Looking for flaws, mistakes, mismatches, ... straw. Nothing. Was a flawless novel.
He felt proud.
uncorked a bottle of wine, lit the fireplace and as he drank, he looked lost and burned the manuscript.
"now is perfect " "he said, knowing the novel freed of their vanity.
He was a humble writer.
0 comments:
Post a Comment