I wrote last night. I actually sat down and let the words drip from my pen to paper. I love the scratchiness sound of a felt tip. I have been trying to write. Working with Mary Beth Bonfoglio's Own the Edge (finally). Thirty days of writing prompts. I wrote. Then, I took a break and then these words poured out. Not thinking, just being.
I used to write. Fantasties. I created whole worlds from words of my own making. Then something got in the way. Lately, words and I have had a hard time. I am not very quick with my speech (or wit). I need time to think it through, find just the right thing to say. I want to become better at using the proper vocabulary in the moment. A vocabulary that speaks the volumes of my soul.
::Words are meant to bore down into your very bones. Core in and break them apart. Then they sweep up the ash and dust. Lift you up into the ether.
