I love slacking off, drinking tea, observing, and writing.
Just the work log of a civilization observer searching for a home. That's all.
(Not set in the Land of Light, no. A blast from the distant past.)
(P.S. I haven't written a novel in eleven years. My writing is awful, the scope is weak, the logic is a mess, and I've changed the setting beyond recognition. If you don't like it, feel free to tear it apart. I write whenever I feel like it. I'm just jotting down some dreams I've had. No promise I'll finish it, but I'll let you know before I go silent.)
(P.S. 2: As long as I criticize everything about my own work before the readers can, I won't get upset.)
(P.S. 3: Work keeps me busy, so there's no point asking for updates. After all, nobody can help me keep these brats in line.)
