Unto you do I pour out my soul- Through my pen flows the condition of one mortal life whose inked pages conduct a time line of hurt, pain, joy, sorrow, birth, death . . . and rebirth.
It is a strange relationship we have, this quill and my life. Yet my pen knows me better than any one person. My pen has shared more moments with me than any best friend. Countless cups of coffee witness the bonding frienship of ink, metal, paper and soul. Fusing together- birthing excruiatingly accounts (at times) of a life seeking for more...
My pen, my quill - an appendage of me.
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Longing For . . .
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