Thursday, February 3, 2011
Asking myself why i write?
What I am writing is not for me, but be certain, it is not for you. It is selfishness of expression, floating out like a weapon, devoid of war devoid of a goal, just a purpose of it's own expression. And like someone said, not all your piety nor wit, will halt the moving finger. A weapon that won't touch you, until you try to guide the fingers. It is a war I wrote, then, but it takes you to read through it.
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Just write without questioning. Let it have its own choice and expression.
ReplyDeleteThere is a place where I start listening, and when I stop wherever I am, I'm still listening, in that I know where I hide and where I break loose,
ReplyDeletehence it is necessary for me to talk about me.