Saturday, 12 April 2008


I am a writer. It's not a career, it's a compulsion. I have to write, otherwise I lose track of my thoughts and they're lost forever. My ideas are like grains of sand slipping through my fingers unless I catch them, writing them down to fix them in reality.

My life is littered with thoughts scribbled onto scraps of paper.

Occasionally the fractured pieces come together as a coherent whole and let me tell a story or share a philosophy. But sometimes the ideas remain as they are; fractured pieces of a whole I cannot yet see.

Perhaps one day, when all my thought are scribbled on to scraps of paper. Perhaps then I can stop writing.

Until then though, it is something I have to do.

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