Writing is a silent language where I communicate my heart’s depths while maintaining the sound barrier. Ideally, writing creates a space wherein brains converse uninterrupted. As a writer I hope to amplify the literary voice yet unknown, thus breaking the silence without breaking the silence.

Writing is to sit with a complex thought on my lap, examine it and explain it to my younger self. Writing is how I know I learned. I know I haven’t figured anything out yet, I never might. Maybe we are not supposed to have it all figured out. Maybe we are meant to simply enjoy the journey, and discover ourselves along the way. Therefore, to me, writing is a journey dotted with epiphanies like shrubs on a dry landscape.

And not so finally, writing is an art form which allows me to transcribe the images in my head using the most accurate words I know. Writing allows me to go back to old thoughts, and examine their solidity against some new fact I’ve learned. I know I will come back to this post a few more times to see if I made sense. I’ll come back to see if I made a mistake, if I learned from that mistake. To me writing is like sketching, erasing and sketching again until I’m confident enough to draw solid lines.