Perhaps you'll read something, perhaps...

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Block Writer Block Writer

About Me

And I'm on.
The curtain rises, a single spotlight illuminating the person in the middle of the stage. They stand, not a word said, as slowly a colour wash begins to lighten the surroundings. Around them, gradually, and gradually, books can be seen in piles, papers are seemingly floating in the air, and a word is spoken.
The wash begins to fade, the person being covered in darkness. And when it ends, all that is left is a single person standing in the shadows and a single word echoing throughout the room.
The curtains close.