Do you know what’s beautiful about words?
Unlike math or science, no formula will produce the exact same result twice.
The synapses, the cognitions, the connections, may ricochet and interact…
But imitation is its own flattery that cannibalises itself.
Genre notwithstanding, no two writers can independently produce the same piece.
In fact, no one writer can produce the same piece with significant lapse of time and memory.
No — each piece owns its own emotion, its own moment in time. The nuances, the perspectives. Each is a kernel in and of itself, a singular atom in spite of itself, a gem both in and out of its context.
The beauty of language, of words tumbling over each other to find their right places, of craft being created, to be witnessed by the eyes of others.
The simplicity of unpredictability is beautiful.
…Even though it’s scary, sometimes…
To put pen to paper and discover what pours forth from the intricacies of the festering mind…
