No, no, no. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against darkness. Nothing against the dark. Nothing against the concept of darkness. Nothing at all. Just that what I am thinking of right now is the way writing works when it works. When it really works.
Writing points the way out of the dark and into the light. Reading a really good book, a really good story, a really amazing text, has the same effect upon my being.
Of course – a good film, a great play or a poetic piece of music and lyrics can work the same magic but to me the most effective magic are the written words, the words I write or the words of others.
Only rarely do I reach the light through the writing. When it happens, I’m more than happy. I find a happiness only equaled by the one love, real love can bring about.
I keep searching, I keep trying. Rarely do I succeed. Words are not always my best friends. Many times there is a struggle to get them where they end up to be. Sometimes, they never find their proper order.
But when they do. Oh, when they do. Those rare moments are not possible to define in words, they have to be experienced, felt, lived.
Once it happens, that’s when you really know. Until then, all you can do is guess what it might be like but your guess will never be anyway near the true, real feeling.