When you write a sentence and you are in love with it, everybody knows. It’s like declaring your love in public, people read your announcement and they know. And you know most of all– you are the one alone with it and you are the one that is seeing it for the first time, it’s shiny, newly born face, it’s hills and stillness and cries, it’s possible patterns if you continue to extract from it a sound that you carry into the next and the next.

It renews you. You suddenly believe in things you would never believe, you see yourself in that sentence, it’s a flashlight moment, you think how could that come from me but it just did. You know that this feeling is temporary that this is like standing on an ice floe that will eventually melt and disappear into the sea.

You wanted to write something you meant to say all year. You forgot. Or maybe you stopped yourself. Maybe you didn’t know. Or didn’t have the courage to say. Maybe you forgot to mean anything at all. And then it’s so easy. And you wonder why, how,  it could be so hard.


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