I wrote an entire paragraph about my experience in the barber shop today. It was a very pleasant experience and I wanted to tell everyone I knew about it. Once I had written it, I erased it. Even though the experience in the barber shop was wonderful, and  writing about the barber shop was wonderful, what I wrote was not. It was not fair, I felt, to write about a wonderful experience poorly. And then something happened to my pencil. And so what I have left is this:

My barber’s name was Bradley. He cuts his wife’s hair. He loves his wife. He has brown hair. He has two children. And a mustache.

My pencil.


 

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