How interesting that when I am most stripped of thought and emptied of soul, eventually, the sighs rise inside, like ocean waves, and then roll though my pen.
Something someone can relate to splashes onto paper; no guile, no posturing, just an honest description of a human dilemma. And when this happens, people relate, and I think, perhaps people relate to, and are refreshed by, writing that is real.
What a mysterious movement of soul water writing is. At times, words rise and swell and roll forth into inspired prose. Then, at other times, they lie still in one’s soul; no amount of conjuring can make them stir. The writer paddles out past the breakwater and waits, feeling depleted of creativity, exhausted in mind, threadbare of spirit. READ THE ENTIRE POST…
You should have Aunt Gina paint this picture…Beautiful.
Good idea