I haven't been able to write since October 7th. I finished a play before the damned Sabbath and since then I've put together some new things I'm working on, but the writing itself hasn't been going well for me. On ordinary days of imaginary routine, I find myself dealing with two opposing perceptions: My need to confront the reality that surrounds us through writing, and my need to write as a means of escape from that reality and from what is happening around me. After October 7th, these two...