Writing starts with a word. It might not even be the first word. It’s an idea. It’s a whim. Then there comes a sentence, which may not be the first sentence. It’s life coming together. It’s a march, a parade. Then I write a story for the word – short or long, thick or thin… it comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s a new world, a new universe formed.

I think through my fingers. I speak through my fingers.

It’s a language with words that last, and with every word having a journey of its own.

what I have in my mind… what I have in my heart…

I hope you read it one day – all the things that you couldn’t hear or see of me, I hope you feel it through these words.

And I, too, will read it one day, hopefully see how I’ve grown and where I’ve been.

writing, thinking, traveling.


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