You have been writing everyday. You think about what to write when you go to sleep and the minute you wake up. You eat breakfast and lunch. You drink coffee and eat a plate of strawberries. You hug each other. You write.
We feel the same way as our pages when we write. When our writing is crappy and incoherent, we feel thin, incomplete, mis-spelt, like a basket of waste paper. When our writing flows, runs and jumps, we feel breathless, tipsy, light, as if sitting on a hot-air balloon.
And why do I write? What's the purpose of it all?
It's a job, a challenge, a freedom, a duty, a record, an escape, an affliction, a pretense, an identity, a mask, a choice, a habit, a drag, a dance.
For me and for others I'm sure, it's a gift that you're writing more often and in public, so that we can get a glimpse inside of your head and heart. More, more, more! :-)
ReplyDeleteThank you Eugene! I have a feeling that what's in my mind is rather impoverished! I lead such a monotonous life! But it's good to have a venue to communicate ... Thank you for reading! I have also been reading your blogs, and find so much joy in them!
ReplyDelete