“She had the whole ten thousand dollars to spend on this one room if she wanted to, if no better ideas came to her. Right now she had no better ideas. She’d used up the afternoon and all the stationery in the room just scribbling thoughts down as they came to her. Now, as the day outside the windows gave way to evening, she sat at the table and leafed through page after page, her day’s work. The first page was no masterpiece: “Crazy my name is Sally Roe,” followed by a full page of aimless lines... and squiggles. Apparently she’d failed to capture her thoughts. But that was depressing. Maybe this was an accurate record of her thoughts. She didn’t even remember doing it. The next page had some scribbled words that looked like they might be “Death” and “Madness,” but she couldn’t be sure. After that, her writing broke down into chaotic scribbles again, and then at the bottom of the page she’d written her name several times, encircled by some strange, dark doodles. She remembered making those in a pit of depression when she didn’t feel like thinking or writing anything.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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