There’s something about words that I adore. It feels magical to transform thoughts into writing; to make thoughts concrete. A sequence that sometimes seems fragmented, but comes together beautifully in an array of jumbled memory and nostalgia.
I like the mood that words create. I like how tiny acts lead to splendid ideas and inspiration. I like to run into my imagination, and I feel blessed when my imagination finds me, often uncaring about where I am. Sometimes I’m falling asleep, and words come rushing to me.
I often get punished for ignoring them. The next day, I remember snatches of those words and ideas but never am I able to recreate them quite the same way, never quite to satisfaction.