It is proving more challenging to write than I would like. The final product should capture my hopes for it as well as my fears of it. It should be full of the detailed images of pleasure and comfort and contentedness that I wish to recapture. It should be fairly vague and elusive yet clear, vibrant, and concise. It should make my eyes sting with tears of self-recognition. All of the pre-requisites ensure that it will never meet my expectations and will slip through my fingers like fine, soft sand.
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