When I was in high school, I juggled mathematics and writing effortlessly. I solved some algebra questions in the evenings and in between classes, while on weekends, I sat in front of my Windows 95-powered PC and created– feverishly, fervently– my next literary masterpiece. Those days, writing never felt like a chore. Sure, I discarded more stories than I could care to count, but my resolve never wavered. When one short story felt a bit too much for me to take, I took a break (or solved that trigonometric exercise that I’ve been itching to get my hands on). Then I moved on.
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The Minimalist Project: An Update
6 days ago