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Virginia Woolf had a room of her own.

Thoreau had his pond.

A tree of my own. (Kathleen Kenna photo)

I’ve been writing so much that it feels stifling at my desk, in still-90F heat.

Then I found a tree of my own.

Writing below a scruffy pine, I’m grateful for the cool shade, and especially, the quiet.

Life in 5 lines© is written in solitude every Saturday.

 

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