I have written well over a million words. They all sit, cluttered in a heap of nonsensical gibberish on my flash drive.
Funny, I don't think the flash ever drove.
Of these million words, I can not find the first one that I like.
Not a single one.
I'm one of those language is a barrier moods, and as we've learned throughout all of this living stuff, there is no arguing with a mood.
So what it boils down to is a dirty pan and burnt sauce. I was never very good at reductions anyway.