September 2011
1 post
I continue to write. It is both wonderful and terrible to feel so seized by something: I write like a thing possessed, and feel strange and strangled when I do not allow my fingers their free rein. Why is this? Will anything be lost if they are not poised to capture it? It seems they would believe that everything would be.
Because of this—because of, that is, my peculiar frantic panic about...