I have always liked writing.
Poetry.
I often visualize a familiar place with familiar faces where I deliver these lines.
I have never done it publicly.
Film. Video. Movies.
S.t.o.p.
Gives me the opening. Outlet. Canvas. For my ideas.
I'm new to this aspect of art. Yet I feel like we've know each other for quite some time.
To be able to project a mental reel of ideas onto a blank canvas. Delight. Light. Real.
I'd never imagine myself to be so open to criticism. To be so open to expressing. To be so open to failure. But now I do. Imagine. Dream. Hope.
I go to write and I can't continue. Injustice. Bias. Prejudice.
I'd like to think that I'll keep on writing. Keep on developing. With my ear to the ground. My heart on my sleeve. My mouth shut.
I want to listen. Hear. Know. Where you're coming from.
Your story. Your words. Your perspective.
It may be a while coming. But, I think I'll keep on writing. Keep on listening. Keep on waiting. Till. Your. Heart. beep. Beat. Becomes. Mine.
I need to.
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