May 21, 2017
Writing is not silence
For a long while nobody had seen me even with my hand raised.
“It is my turn,” I said with that gesture. It should have caught attention
It made them start to talk altogether at once instead. Did they hear?
I was so curious as to how she seemed to be full of stories for me.
That is, until I witnessed her playing mahjong with her friends.
She listened. Attentively. She listened.
She narrates. I write. You play guitar. I write. He dances. I write. She paints. I write. They scream. I write.
There was a man. He wrote. He sang what he wrote. He was there in the words, in the lines, in the spaces between
Writing is not silence
