New flash fiction about "that port town where vowels aint allowed".
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I think I'm going to push the mini chap book format as far as I can with this one (the one where you take a 8.5 x 11" sheet of paper and fold it into a tiny book). It'll be a book example of the DIY culture that Bruce and Nolen of Post Type foster while taking meticulous care in design. Two days in, the initial design is looking good.
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sample:
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Ay, Lynch’s brief tryst with the sylph, told now in bar myths and hype, rivals even my spryest forays in Syzygy – that port town where vowels aint allowed. Signs hang myopic over byways. Type erased with rifle and knife. Not a brunch menu or lotto ticket or tattoo with a vowel in sight. Boring, really.
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