My journal of big words and pretty pictures
I sit in a dim, windowless room, on a cold metal chair, at a battered wooden table. A fresh, yellow legal pad is laid out in front of me, a pen sits sideways on top. It’s a plain white pen with a blue cap. It’s an appalling shade of blue, nothing I would ever wear. … Continue reading The story is everything
Black motes float acoss my vision, dancing upon vitreous pools of tannic illuminations, spinning to a waltz unheard by all save me. Taunting, teasing, coaxing me to swim with the inky eels and snakes. The contagion of my illness passes easily to those around me. As if the presence of abstract thought and unsuppressed passion … Continue reading Contagion
Hundreds of college composition books littered her bedroom floor, each filled with her tight, precise handwriting. Every page, every margin overflowing with words. Her words, her stories. She had to get these details written out, to preserve them. Oral traditions faded away, words put to paper were forever. The feel of ink making contact with … Continue reading She writes
Thin spiral notebook 