When the pen is the word of my mind…
The words should come out of my mouth, but the words have no meaning to me than in writing. They come one after the other, spoken they block me, they are rocking my thoughts and my feelings plunge into shock, the white paper is intended to euthanasia liberating a communication which I have never been close …
My mouth closes, my heart opens and it is the sound of my emotions on paper that covers the silence. I do not seek beauty, sincerity and intensity of my writings forcefully convey the whole meaning of my silence, I see when I write because I convey that I have never been able to say about my fears, my joys, my loves, my pains, my doubts and laughter …
Selfish pen, but far from being stingy to each word that will awaken the thoughts of a night or unacknowledged feelings of a story. Then the devil speaks, the pen is my angel … the ink intoxicates my mind and gives to my written words its own meaning of paradise, even though I know that the heaven is not on paper …
The pen is light, but it really serves me as if it could help me to fly …ઇઉ ❤
Beatriz Esmer 
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