The Wistful Throne
October 14, 1998 The cold in my left hand is not a symptom; it is a boundary. I have been trying to write the final chapter of *The Founding Silence* for three days, and the pen slips from my fingers with a frequency that is becoming embarrassing, if I were not so consumed by the work. I am forty-five, and I have exactly two years left before my sabbatical, which is effectively my retirement...
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