So much changes and yet nothing changes
Stories are an interesting thing. I'm beginning to write again. And it's really hard not to feel guilty about how I dropped the ball on my writing. I go back and look at how my writing progressed when I wrote on a regular basis and I'm impressed with me. As I read my words it feels effortless. Like somehow I just magically created words that were fitting for the time. How did I do that? How is it that letters become words and words become sentences and sentences become paragraphs and paragraphs become books? Words can be pretty magical. They can dance over pages, bringing to life a new world. They can also drop like a lead weight into a person's belly completely transforming a mood. Just the right combination of words can bring life. Just the right combination of words can trigger loss. Oh, the magic of a word combined with other words. Such a simple everyday thing