What does writing mean to me beyond the act itself?
βI write for myself, retreating into the sanctuary of my imagination, only to return and read the words as though they were born from someone elseβs soul.β

a sweet writer. . .
βMy imagination is a locked room; writing is the key I use to visit."

. . .
βMy words are echoes of worlds Iβve built in silence, yet they greet me like strangers when I return to read them.β
