Burnt Ovens

9.25

a hiatus. and then, the return. The act of devouring beautiful writing so akin to astroprojection--the disbelief, the shock, the amazement. Hearing the words flow, so well oiled, as if the page, the pen were not the enemies so many claim them to be. And I wish, oh I wish too often for too much, I know, but I wish a muse would sing for me.

posted by Sofie @ 10:50 PM Comments: 0