Thank you for your nice letter and words of compliments.
I appreciated every word. About the need for "personal stuff" I want you to know...
every drivil, splash of slop and stain of tear is personal, very much so.
For those who can see with their mind it is enough from a non-entity such as me.
Sorry you missed it, my bad really. As in life we can make unintentioned blunders
and not even realise it. We can wander in the geography of our own heads and some how get lost and then not even realise
we are lost until, well, until we are really in a place that makes no sense at all, or somone may call it the rabbit hole.
But , and there is always a but, (else how would we get rid of things we no longer need?), I never have found that any of us
share the same perspective, really. Dont you agree?
Human of words, symbols of thought, dragging them from your heart and
very soul to the light of paper and ink? Where they lay fresh and warm from the heat of your soul.
Is it all so plain for you my friend? That we know that we dont know? It is not so with this gathering of brain cells over here.
And what about Oscar Wilde? In a way there is a drift of quixsotic
but, then you know and admire the chap.
In your ad, the place where I saw a possible cup of coffee with chat about writing and space and little scraps of innert speakings of how it might be understood, or even known.
I use to have a friend and thats what we did. He a self published and me so alike, but with a touch of insanity, just enough to make it real.
Now I have said to much, and god please get me an editor! I will now eat my chocolate Remy Martin Fine Champagne Cognac...
and wait for the rant to be sent my way. By the way none is ever rant,(as you say) it is just the reflection of our own, own.