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Saturday 19 February 2011

Light


Writing, to me is a refocus.

When I am lost, confused in here, I write. And when I do, it soothes me, that I loom away. From here, to elsewhere. To a while, where none of my original worries  matter. For a while, I connect, to what I feel is the closest to a soul. My soul. And so I call these escapades an art.

Writing, to me is an art.

And therefore, I consider me an artist, reaching out to my inner depths, listening to the muse that sings within, watching her weave a tale,  feeling her pulse as she dances away ecstatic. She creates magic, and life. 

She creates me. She is me.