Having a writig buddy is like:
-Eating ethereal yet plausible rainbow clouds and turning them into words.
-Having within one's inner furnace a phoenix as fuel that unleashes an outlandish inspiration.
-Understanding the meaning behind sentences such as this: "déjà que le nombre des mixtilles est pâle et que je t'en trouve un goût bien silencieux, toi qui avais l'odeur si tapageuse tant tes larmes sucrées te restaient prisonnères à pourir à l'intérieur".
I proclaim officially that my writer's food is Path's lemon cake.
Nothing can fill me more because of such an overload of gratitude right now.
So, I just want to remember the salvation it brings me to deliver every word and to read every word.
To never forget and to commit.
Thank you.
