I opened the windows today.
I can hear the birds singing, still.
They say that's what it's like, that
there's music everywhere, that
it was always there, for those
with open windows to let it in.
I opened the windows today.
I can hear the birds singing, still.
They say that's what it's like, that
there's music everywhere, that
it was always there, for those
with open windows to let it in.
Or 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
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.
The only mine I've ever known has been hard-fought, hard-won, all bloody knuckles and broken ribs, all set shoulders and subtle sneer-- won't take no for an answer, defiance the only way I know. It's