I believe every great writer must have had a great storyteller.
I’ve kept a journal since I could remember. I write constantly with either pen, paper, or thoughts. Thoughts that play like movies with sentiment and laughter streaming sometimes slowly… (Pause)
I even built a code system of numbers to write so that no one could understand. It got to be too hard to read, but also to understand.
Then I began writing fiction and
Somethings are even too sacred for myself to record but to God telepathically share with him, and whoever catches the vibe sync and slide together like the very real thrill of speeding through a turn, drop, loop.
My dad tells stories with so much grandeur that it makes everyone around him understand magic. Every story is amazing because of the way he views it. We are in control of who we are but he does it well.
When we know, feel, see, experience, love, and are something beautiful than we could spread it so that everyone feels comfortable sharing theirs. The two of us just jammed in between a fit of writing and running to check on the babies. This is all very amazing and real. My hand gently resting on the baby’s knee so he would sign back to deep sleep actually writing a poem about my chipped red nail
Polish and thinking I need lotion.
My other hand on my older son and gasping a beat at how real their flesh feels against mine.
Descartes, “I think therefore I am.”
Earlier today Clary held tightly to my head as we walked through a dark parking lot and I wishing he would squeeze tighter because of how his solid body is proof he is real.
Socrates was an amazing storyteller and Plato was the writer. If we didn’t have electronic devices maybe we would have more companions and to think how lonely the future might be….