The end of 2016 draws near. Like most years, my goals and dreams amounted to dust and elusive unicorns and dragons. I did write more. Still, another year is fading and so am I. 

I have no talent for precognition. I have no idea what tomorrow holds in store. I look to it in an equal measure of hope and dread. 

I was wrong about nearly everything this year. That is quite a trick. It is almost a talent. I mean even a broken clock is right twice a day. Maybe next year I can be a broken clock. 

Four more weeks to put 2016 to rest. The hourglass is refusing to yield. Time will keep seeping through my fingers.  All I can do is try. 

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