When I am writing I feel free. There are no limits or boundaries to where my words go. It matters not that they make any sense at all. This writing, that you now read, isn't intended for anything other than to exercise my hand, my head, my pen. Ever pick up an old pen and scribble about the page to get the ink flowing again? I wonder how many people try this same technique with life. It only usually takes a little encouragement to get the flow going. In the end, what really matters most? Will I?
A hush falls over the crowd. A pin drops. A house is built. A baby is borne.
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