It's hard to start new after taking a break, the white page seems precious.
On days when I write daily, I am perfectly comfortable spewing nonsense.
Yet now, there is pressure to write something, profound, true and poignant.
Impossible.
Featured Post
War
In the midst of the rubble we must pick up our chins win sideways or not at all find the beauty in the butterfly wing soar on the ocean with...
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...