If thrillers are to be believed, falling in love is as dangerous as leaving your front door unlocked, or walking down a dim, dark street at night.
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Perhaps I took it too literally, but I was under the impression that if something had not happened directly to me, I had no right to write about it.
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I didn’t understand, for a long time, why the feedback I received from peers and family was the same: great setting — wooden characters.
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