” The true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words”- William H. Gass
Many people believe that writing is an escape from reality ,when in contrast it seems to be my very anchor to the same. The universe is infinite, human nature is transient and we are merely flickering candle flames in the smoldering supernova of the endless circle of life and death. In the midst of our struggle to accept this enigmatic concept of reality, putting meandering thoughts into words reiterates my persistent belief that we, as people, matter .
The universe has an unconventional language, far from the twenty six letters engraved in our impressionable toddler minds. This is the language of the flowing autumn breeze and saline oceanic froth, of spilled black coffee and crumpled paper balls, of ink-stained school uniforms and crinkled laugh lines. It is the language shaped by our 3:00 a.m. thoughts and frivolous desires, and made alive by the scars and bruises we all hide within, be it behind long sleeved shirts or an empty, closed off zone way in the back of our minds.
I hope I am able to do the universe justice, as I weave a tale around scattered, forgotten galaxies and zealous celestial explosions, and flirt with the dappling starlight and fairy dust which comes to life under a weathered apple tree. I hope I travel the entirety of the human cosmos while sitting on my stiff-backed, wooden chair, and pave a way lined with fervent joy, inexplicable anger and mind-numbing heartache.
Perhaps this hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have- but I still have it.
And so, I write.
On this note, I bid adieu. The first chapter of our metaphorical journey across the universe will be out soon. Like, comment and share- your support means the world (universe?) to me.
Starlight, ashes and other contemplations 