A friend writes:
The first writing I ever did -- I was about 7 or 8 -- was to make up 'magic' words -- some kind of incantation about rosewood (which I thought literarily meant the wood of a rose..which I harvested from the garden) which I then wrote on cue cards and recited from time to time, and hid in a little grey box. We are always in search of ourselves in words, in the world, in mystery and confusion.
Beautiful, eh?
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