Tonight, under the quiet of the stars, I found myself rereading my own secret poems, wondering if they will ever see the light of day. There is a certain magic in words kept hidden, like seeds waiting for the right season to bloom.
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Editor
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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.
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