OK, here it is. Another attempt at blogging. Here we go.
Free. What's free? Taking a walk is free. Conversing with Grandma is free. Writing is free. Am I free?
Association. Ass. Ociation. What do I associate writing with? Fingers hold a pencil. Fingers type on a keyboard. Fingers place feathers on a beach to spell out words from the heart. Hands and fingers travel the fretboard of a guitar, spinning a web of music.
Writing memorializes, informs, releases, creates.
I love to write. But most of it goes on inside my head, like the syncopated rhythm that my tiny giraffe dances to. Often never to be rediscovered.