What am I?

Since I started tweeting, a while back, I have met many folks from all over this small village we call Earth. Many of them were people I exchanged silences with, while others were great souls I slowly discovered, with each passing tweet. Being a poor schmuck that ties words together to make something out of not-so-thin air, I met writers and poets (poetry being my mistress, while I’m married to novel-writing. Or is it the opposite? I’ve never known.), with some of them enjoying that much-needed “published”, and artists working (or dare I say playing?) in other aspects of the artistic spectrum.

Where am I going with this, you might ask? To be Joe, Steve and Frank (had to make the pun…), I have no idea. I guess it’s due to the fact that I was fighting with the urge of blogging something, thus tarnishing what I consider to be a writer’s golden rule: “You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say.”. Ave, Fitzgerald, those about to write salute you.

Thanks for letting me evaporate that perfume of delirium.


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