I did it again…
I was super excited about a concept and just quit half way, but you noticed of course. You smiled after the second week of no posts and you thought to yourself, “I knew this wouldn’t last long with her!”
You are sorely mistaken :friend. I have been feeding my passion instead of letting it dwindle and die. I have taken what I wanted and lived to tell the story : I am still here.
1 School and 300 kids later.
The running happens a little less due to more work and the drinking is a little more due to the bar set up; but I’m very much alive and burning.
This is the last stretch; silence is necessary so that I don’t lose track. Silence to the world But constant music for my soul. Breathing happens more easily and living is fluid. However the writing is forced and I don’t like that at all; it is forced writing after all that makes a truly dead author, poet or artist of any kind.
What’s art without movement or passion? There’s no art in that – it’s more like a copy and paste from a global media on to a blank canvas soul. Should we not observe in appreciation the artwork after chiselling it out so definitively for so long?
Should we not long to lay unobstructed by surface worries with our fingers interlaced barely being able to help but swallow hard. How our hearts will beat in each other’s ears with an eternal echoe; an imprint of your heart on mine!
With a wallpaper of your unseen body pasted on my dreams.
This is how we begin to understand what it is exactly that we are… or rather how excruciatingly significant we are to the entire system.
How our physical image is the vessel through which true spirit becomes functional. The physical manifestation of what language defines as magic.
Unpredictable, determined, water on two feet, spirit within a mass containing entity.
This post is more of a side note to let you know that it takes more than writing something down to be phenomenal enough to make it happen. So I have decided to do it. To trust that no matter what ; we will be ok.