Ok ok,
Somewhere in cyberspace, there is a post floating around. The only problem is, I cannot find it. Set up last night as a draft, then accessed this morning, the “Publish” button must have thought it was not worth cluttering up this space. Hard on my pride, but perhaps not so far wrong.
It is a strange thing, this compulsion to write, with the vague hope that somebody might actually care enough to read it. It is even more strange typing without a word-processing program (this is not my own computer and lacks the tools I take for granted, a rather outdated laptop here). I can’t spell-check and don’t even have a dictionary close. How do people function without dictionaries? The spell-check feature is a handy tool, but only a tool. A dictionary is almost like another limb. I feel handicapped without it.
I’m always struck by the wonder of creating with words. Poetry feeds some deep soul-hunger in me. Whether I am reading or writing it. I also delight in a wide range of prose. I wish there were 25hrs a day. An extra hour put to good use writing articles. What a privilege!
Cheers
ps: 2 Mins of 25th hour will be spent remembering Rene Zellweger jokes – Family Guy.
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