Going to steal oh I mean re-blog this. Thanks for posting.
“Sometimes the simple rhythm of typing gets us from page one to page two. When you begin to feel your own words, start typing them.” – Finding Forrester
Art is a selfish endeavour. The words we write for ourselves are always the ones who matter most to everyone around us. The words that strip our soul naked. The words that we’d like to burn the moment they find a home on a piece of paper. The words that we can barely read aloud.
But what happens when someone else writes the words you wished to have written? Words that you couldn’t have written, but you didn’t. Words that describe the shape of your heart as perfectly as such flawed instruments can do?
Quite the dilemma.
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