my voice is my writing

when I write I let the words conduct myself…the opposite is an ilusion…I conduct the words someway…in facts words imposes to me his expression…words are stronger than me…but a word must be a voice…a word is a voice….my voice…your voice…our voice…writing puts the words in the state of a voice that is expressing something from the human condition…today I feel the blue…when I write about the blue feeling the blue mood changes to a broader dimension that grounds in my soul seeking for a warm nest to enhance my confidence in the future and in the human goodness…I hear my voice when I write more than when I read…when I read I feel like the words are reading myself…this is literature: voice, silence, voice, silence…literature and music are in the same ground: my soul, your soul…writing is a form of dialogue when I am alone on my own way

voice

I write also as a form of expression of my own voice…when I write I listen to myself…I observe that is important for any person listen himself…herself…when I write I can hear my voice in the words playing a kind of dance…the dance of the words is writing…not exactly literature…writing antecipates literature…I see writing and literature as a double face of the same thing: the human voice expresion of human needs, desire, passion, emotions, rememberings, worries, facts, impressions, wishes, beauty, and all that encompasses the human condition

to write

I feel and I choose to write because I can not not write…those persons that do not write may be writers in other ways…when I am in a vivid conversation I see meanwhike a text in motion…a writing in another shape….words I speak…words I listen…these all words are a text…a conversation is a text in a form not writen…itt’s possible to write in many ways…reading a story for someone…reading a story for a child…reading a story for a group…all are forms of writing…the motion of the words creates a world…words need movement…the movement of words id the writer practice…in this way and in the long run…human condition are words in motion…

not to write

sometimes it sounds me that it would be better to stop writing…I have nothing to say…I write bcause I need…this work with words, phrases, paragraphs is something I like…I don’t know the reason…I like…and more than this….I need to play with words, letters, phrases…as if I am a lot of words…my name…my surname…my name is a word and something ahead…my surname is a word and something in the long run I see as a very big part of my biography…the grounds of my identity…my personal history…so…no wriing is something I can not do…it’s not a matter of compulsivity…but a matter of need…when I write I write for you…if I do not write I feel a big difficuty to feel my soul

to write or not to write

today I comment about my blog…I do not use any tool like photos, videos, images…my photo is not in my blog…matters of myself…but I am questioning myself…I like photos, videos and other froms of espression like music…I am thinking in post music…sound…music feel better…but sounds too…sounds of the wind…sounds of things…window sound…voice sound…imorecise sounds…but I write words, words, words…it’s a matter of vocation I feel…do deal with words…make the words work…for my long way till now…now I feel some blue sensations…

a brand new word

writing is a kind of pray for me…a way to stay with you and tell you that I see and I feel a brand new world…the builiding of a horizon with the bricks of the wall with my writings and readings…with the bricks I build a new wall for contemplation of a brand new world…imperfect  boundaries…imperfect phrase…thinking is not writing…a brand new world…a brand new word: love

words, a brand new world

with these bricks…the words……after the broken wall…inner wall…I see inside the wall…then I see outside the wall…one world…two worlds…after…I see the outside wall…. and the broken wall…and I see a horizon…the wall bricks…and ahead…going on…after a while…I see a brand new world…perhaps an image on my mind…perhaps a hope in my soul

words, worlds

perhaps I write as romancist because…it’s not a justification…I am just writing…because what I write is of no importance…how I write has a little importance…writing is a kind of loving…who reads me touchs me…writing and reading is one thing…some kind of wings to let the winds show me the way…I already see my way…after the first step…after writing the first word…after the first phrase…a paragraph…a chapter….a book…in fact I don’t know what is a book…but when I read the words…when I write one word…I see worlds

I read words

reading…I am writing more than I read…it is some new for me…a surprise…some kind of insight…I am trying to be free from reasoning and justifiction the reason I write…I write words…I’ve read some time that a writer has nothing to say…today I understand a little bit that statement…the writing is a form of conversation…Oh!…I’m not a poet…perhaps a writer, a romancist, an essayst…essay is a shape of connecting the words…a form of connecting the words in an easier way…but essay…I wrote some essays…influence of Montaigne, the initial essayst….esssayst may be a neologism…I don’t know why I write in english language…but as a romancist…is a hard work to write…I guess the words write me…a romancist has nothing to say…so I write

I write words

I write words and words and words and…my writer’s practice is a need…to share…to keep in touch with the persons…I feel me so happy when someone post a comment…I feel I’m not alone…who reads my writings touchs me in someway…inspires me to go on, to contiune writing…and endless practice…I can not notice when I begin to write…many years ago…I like very much to read…a good book for me is a book that in someway reads me