Sometimes, when the book resists, I feel like I’m looking through dirt-smudged windows. I can almost catch hold of the story between my finger and my thumb, but like a person waking, I cannot capture enough of the elusive dream to recall any more than a feeling. The harder I try, the more the tail of the dream slips out of reach.

There are times when I have to give up on a book; I cannot see my way clear to the story I first envisioned.

But sometimes, if I am patient, I see just enough through the grime-smeared window to give me hope and keep me going.

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