As I was snapping pics of the crowd and the readers I caught Armin’s hands in the frame.
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Now forgive me for the faint whiff of lame but…looking at Armin’s hands through the lens, I realized that four novels and countless short stories (okay, okay, you can probably count them...) have moved through those hands and onto the page.
Even though I presume to call myself a writer, I couldn't tell you precisely where stories reside in the body and where they come from. But it's sort of strange to think that the stories rely on fingers and knuckles and hands in order to be made manifest in the world.
1 comment:
I have a picture of Sir Francis Bond's Head.
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