Spontaneous. Unpredictable. Growing. Shrinking. Living. My writing is gibberish. The words are puked onto the page. Yet it is there. Solid. Framed. Strong. Like boxes. Yet stacked with a certain aloofness. Unorganized. Unlabeled. Not color-coded. Piles upon stacks. Stacks upon piles. Yet buried deep within sits a treasure. Unlike the rest, the treasure is bonded. Strong. True. It arises from the rubble like a mist on a lake. The treasure is defined. A word. A phrase. A sentence. A theme. It bonds all of the mess together. As treasure can be found in a messy storage room, so too can a treasure be found in the written words of a man.
Background By: Beyound Blue Properties