For years an image of another life has been embossed in that part of me that only feels the world.
I live alone in a small cottage, reclusive but upscale in a minimalist design. Writing is my passion and my work is in high demand. I have done my share of suffering for my art. Divorced. Childless.
I try to live a balanced life, but it is difficult. I am a woman given to highs and lows. My characters are born of both sinners and saints and eventually become the other. I am in love with a man who loved me years before. Between us is a moral divide he refuses to cross over. He knows that I know that he wants to. I sense him everywhere. And when I take a lover, it is his hand that touches me. And with that hand I both adore and betray him over and over.
I get lost in the life of my novel. The cast consumes me. The stories are pieces of you and me, twisted until I can no longer recognize quite where they came from.
And on a day such as today... I question what it is that keeps me from this life.
Perhaps on most other days, I just don't want it enough.
Free to be pure - free to be sane
On a day like today
Free is all we gotta be
Dream dreams no one else can see
But you never know what might be coming for you and me