Okay. So I lied.

I have two days left here in Heaven. I am in a Mobius loop of relocating more than 400 pages of notes from notebooks into their respective chapters, a task as full of turns and layers as an Escher drawing. I have food. And cat food. And wine. I have electricity—and much of it is in my head. Where else would I go?

My eye is on the single step ahead of me. I am hobbling emotionally, but I am focused. I am doing nothing but The Thing. Not speaking. Not exercising. Not hitting the showers. Nothing else. Nothing.

I am the Mount Rushmore of writers today. You may come view me from the visitors platform…but do not expect me to blink.

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