Start with putting your ego on a longer leash;
you can't let it go entirely--why write if not
to tell yourself about yourself--but it mostly
just gets in the way of getting anything done.
Next, write.
You'll know when you've got something.
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See AllOr I Give Myself Very Good Advice, But I Very Seldom Follow It. Echo lives in a basement apartment, walls softened with photos, posters and paintings--but only one of him, out of the way by the linen
He says what I know of his body is all softness, but I know it's only as soft as the earth solid beneath my feet, an anchor when I might float away. Receptive, grounded. Warm.
I asked for fewer walls, and you gave me a leash with which to lead me places I never would have found on my own, hidden inside me as they were, how you've captured me a key to my own opening.
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