I don’t create jewels.
I’m not a Midas of words,
It’s not gold I make.
I create from pain.
Every word is a part of me
And why I write is the cornerstone of my existence.
I write because I need to.
I write to survive.
I write to alleviate my existence from just breathing to living.
There may not be stars, too many flowers or fluffy clouds and joyous colours in my words.
But there is something beyond that, beyond just words in what I write.
The ink from my fingertips that graze the paper and etch the words is a river full of truth, zigzag lanes of dark noons and rainy nights.
Each drop is soaked in the realms of my heart, comes from somewhere deep inside the studio of my mind.
It’s a way of living.
I write to walk every step of my life,
Away from the hurt and the bruises,
I write because it is a journey into my soul.