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I’m immortal, in an ‘I published a book’ kind of way.

I published a book. I’m immortal now, like Ozymandias. [i] I’ll exist long after the last tree has fallen and the last river has turned to dust. Or not. I have seller’s remorse. The temptation to log onto my account and undo what’s been done is enormous: that this mirrors bulimia, the theme of the …

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