This is how it works: 0 moves to 1, and 1 moves back to 0. An endless cycle.
0.
In April I returned to the town of B, to Mountain Lake Road. Before coming back, I’d been living in the middle of a dank forest, writing my novel with a pen like a twig. I saw no one. Sleep was the only visitor to come between me and my writing. Each time it afflicted me, I fell into a spiral of dreams that deposited me on Mountain Lake Road, yes, that wide roa...