Written down.  Are definitions.  Self-definitions.  Self-revelations, defined.

Lines drawn.  Shapes formed words, speaking, narrating the story into my life.  Am I the author?  Who pens my tale?  Flips the pages, puts black on white, words to text, text to life, life in pages bound, and out again into the wide wild world.

Monday morning, I awoke.  Took a step from half-slumber’s warmth into the cold.  Being free.

Sunday night, I wrote.  Words that flowed from my mind.  Random pages flipped through, specifics catching by trailing fingertips.  Digressions, introspections, suppositions.


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