I read somewhere that the world is made of tiny stories, and it reminded me of importance of writing. A day without writing is a wasted day…and then there are those scary days when words don’t have any sound in my head, as if my life has no real meaning. And this silence inside might define me, or at the same time, kill me.
I am nothing but my story.
People die, but never their stories. It’s the only thing that remains invincible.