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I understand that I will have to choose my memories carefully now.
I tried to recapture my passion for language, for playing with words almost as if they were flowers to be constantly rearranged into beautiful bouquets.
For despite the pain of loss, as time went on, the memory of those I’d loved warmed my heart more than grieved it.
Each life is made up of a thousand stories; it’s the novelist’s job to pick and choose which ones will make a compelling novel.