I doubt some of my words will ever be read, and that is okay. My words aren’t always for other people. Instead they are spoken from my lips to my own ears. The things that I need to tell myself and make clear. A way of confirming my thoughts and putting them in a simpler language then the abstract mix of letters in my head.
And from that the beginning of a novel was born. I have no idea what to call it yet, so instead of a title I am calling it “evangeline”, the main character. I write stories to let some of my inner thoughts free into a human form. As for now that human form is named “evangeline”. She is me. But instead of a body of flesh and blood. Her body is made up of my blood, my ink, and my deepest wishes.