Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth.
So. There it is.
The words are written down, the sound of each letter is echoing in my head.
I know that I have to do it. I can't spoil any minute of the breathing(s) inside me.
No more excuses, no more delays, no more 'ifs' and 'as's.'
Like a mirror, the unspoken is reflecting , and I can't ignore it.
The story wants to come out of me.
Yes, have to grab myself.
Throw myself on a chair, or a bed and ( in a extraordinary way ) make 'love ' to my paper..
Sure my pencil will find the right words to write.
It is no longer a matter of time, but a matter of will.
Like a marriage.
The only thing what is asked, is to answer the question...
" Salty, do you want to write? "
So. Here it is:
"Yes, I do."