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When I was forced out of New Orleans by the ravishing floodwaters of Hurricane Katrina, I ended here in this small town. After six months I began to get depressed, I marveled at the beautiful oak trees outside my front door, and I then began to write non stop. I repeated the same steps the next day, I wrote much more. This was the answer for me. Now 4 years later, I am a freelance journalist for my local newspaper, and I have ended my first book, and now penning a short story. I found a new life in another place under a different success.
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