The writting
Writing is the eternal authors’ challenge. It’s to dream and to stare at a white paper without traces, designs to seek answers for the evils. The challenge is trying to find an idea where only exists a paper… a white paper.
So they walk down their memories lane as if they were wandering in a kind of infinite roadway. Then they travel back in time to revisit their childhood, youth memories, small steps to review old images in every inch of their brains. In short, they try to decode signals surrounded by stone and glass chains of the imagination in a place where they’re capable of making magic. In general, they search for lost moments that they have lived.
If some inspiration emerges from the naught, eventually something appears to light up their thoughts. This unknown anxious ghost lives in their souls. Or this ghost is only an epiphany that scatters fragments on the skin as a flash of lightning carried on a storm to fill the white paper as a gift sent from heaven.
Immediately they produce rain and bolts came from the tears of their wet eyes immersed in a strange perfume. They provoke winds, brightness and the awaited words appear.
Quietly, a character dresses Harlequin clothes and sits on a windowsill as if he has been riding an imaginary horse. In fact, authors realize that their hands dominate the uncontrolled process of the art of writing. The Harlequin begins to tell them a funny or a dramatic story. Then the clown notices the curious look of them. The author’s eyes open and it seems that they control the story, however, only Harlequin knows the truth.
After this brainstorm, the winds of the storm disappear and Harlequin goes away. The imaginary window and the horse as well. Authors observe the words on the paper. They enjoy reading those pages a dozen times and they don’t believe that all things were hidden inside their brains, and they hadn’t understood them.
Photo from: Foto de Aaron Burden en Unsplash
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