Some days, writing feels like whispering to the walls. The world barely listens. And yet, a sentence winks. A paragraph hums. A thought does a little dance. Those tiny sparks are enough to keep me at it — stubborn, stubborn, and happily so.
Some days, writing feels like whispering to the walls. The world barely listens. And yet, a sentence winks. A paragraph hums. A thought does a little dance. Those tiny sparks are enough to keep me at it — stubborn, stubborn, and happily so.