Can you do it? part one.

The Stroller by Claude Monet, 1887

 

 

dearest you,

It’s not simple. Though it makes no sense, it’s within its walls a complication so great that only the one with the paint brush standing lost in the stillness of perfect beauty can feel.
oui?
Like Claude Monet.
I am often lost in my own solitude.

I was born in the stillness of colors et very little sound, I was born with pain et a fountain pen.
With ink splattered on the walls of my existence.
As an adult I know that today where I shall stand it was meant for me.
The question my darlings is can you do it?
Can you write?
Can you sit still for hours lost in your thoughts, can you fill the pages with the beat of every thump?

Will you weep, when your characters fall or becomes mort or when they read aloud where they ought to go?
Will you jump when they lead you to a waterfall?

Can you forget for the many seconds that it’s not about you, but abouts a story that  has recognized you can feel it’s pain, et you can scribble every dust of emotion on papier?

can you?

Are you ready to answer the question or shall you ponder the answer?

This is the first step to knowing what you are as the one with the fountain pen at hand.

Yours,

RS

ps. Daily ponder