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At the conclusion to A Room of One’s Own (1929), Virginia Woolf imagines the life of a writer in the twenty-first century: For my belief is that if we live another century or so – I am talking of the common life which is the real life and not of the little separate lives which we live as individuals – and have five hundred a year each of us and rooms of our own; if we have the habit of freedom and courage to write exactly what we think; if we escape a little from the common sitting-room and see human beings not always in their relation to each other but in relation to reality; and the sky, too, and the trees or whatever it may be in themselves [. . .] then the opportunity will come and the dead poet who was Shakespeare’s sister will put on the body which she has so often laid down. (RO 86)