Once in an indeterminate while, a writer sits at her desk that bears the weight of her writing instruments, and considers their worth.

In this moment, she tries to free herself from the nagging sensation of ego, of arrogance, of self-assured construction of her safe reality and concentrates on herself instead of her writing for once. She knows that this is a hard task, for writing is a part of her identity as much as anything else, and recently, it weighs deeply in her mind.

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