Month number...I can't remember. Or rather I just don't want to count. I don't want the extra numbers in my head as a weight I can do nothing with except notice.
There have been so many moments I wanted to capture here on this page. With words. On Sparrow, about Sparrow, to celebrate Sparrow. Part of the dream not yet realized. Or perhaps realized just not enacted upon. I am not a blogger nor do I consider myself a real writer but when I do write I feel parts of myself unravel and unfold and breathe, yes breathe.
For the past ten years the bulk of my writing has been in a steady relationship with the imaginations of 6 year olds who took me on wild quest through underground worm holes, schools for rebel fish, vending machines filled with lively junk food characters, and castles of discord. Yes, I was a scriptwriter for a youth theater. Magically turning the rambling wonders of 1st and 2nd graders into lines that may have not made much sense to the audience but truly ignited their own personal sparks.
Writer or not, If there is anything I know to be real it is that I write best when I am writing in the direct moment of whatever is moving me.
Now the true challenge - finding the space and time to write. Ha.
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