eyes firmly closed.
It was then that it arose.
What good is a writer who fails to express the most basic of his thoughts? Who looks at his work and still can’t tell what is going on?
Writing is like painting. A collage of words stroked together.
In the end revealing not only the beauty in front of you, but also acknowledging the sanctified spaces where art channels existence to communicate with self.
In addition to being entrusted with the imagination of others, the writer intercedes between worlds, epochs and often frees dreams caught in the snares of socially accepted realities. Therefore the writer’s mission is not to craft images deemed aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, rather the mission is to open the I.
Never be like a woodpecker and dwell in the hollow spaces of life.