A small conversation this afternoon inspired me to want to write something…only my congested head and face felt that was a bit ambitious. So I pulled out a box of old writing and took the easy way out – type something already composed.
Here’s a random tidbit from the UBC-O time period.
To write is to escape.
To another world. One I myself create.
To write is to talk to myself.
To write is to release.
To write is to cry. And breathe. And sigh. And to share.
To write is to create a beautiful work of art. A masterpiece.
To write is power. Manipulation of language. Grammar. Syntax. Vocabulary. Semantics.
To write is to move. A lover. A friend. An enemy.
To hurt, attack, punch, crush, squash, squelch, shock, ruin.
And love, soothe, care, touch, elicit, fix, apologize, pray, wish.
Reinvent. And again and again and again.
A path to another world. A hand to reach another. A colour, an emotion.
More strength and power than a fist. A knife. A gun.
Words are power.
September 22, 2005