MY WONDERFUL VICE.
The constant transition from writer to sculptor is metamorphic every time. And though I say constant, there are periods of months and eventually years between each change. I have two passions, which I must vent and I cannot give 100% to both. What the hell does one do, if they want to give their best? Sacrifice, albeit temporarily, one passion, which is like saying goodbye to a friend.
So what changes? I still suffer with insomnia and the constant battering of my headspace with intrusive thoughts that are screaming out to be heard, acted upon and released into the world of creative reality. I am still borrowing pens and scraps of paper from complete strangers as I go about my daily routine without a pen- I just can’t get into the habit of being prepared for it when it comes.
Although I am at the mercy of…
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