The night is quiet, and I find myself thinking about the manuscripts I have left to edit for tomorrow. There is a certain peace in the silence of this hour that helps me focus on the work ahead.
Tonight, I keep thinking about how many stories remain unread because someone chose silence over pages. Reading is dreaming with open eyes, and I hope my students never close theirs.
There's something special about my cozy home tonight. Resting for health (remembering Sunday afternoons at my grandmother's house) helps me feel centered.
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