Lovers of Age
Rosina S.
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I write to release my hand of all it holds throughout the day: my book or my pen that constantly balances on the edge of having no ink, my heart when it gets tired from dancing around in my chest, or my tears when they fall too far. I write so that my hand can be held and so that the love I hold for existing can be given to another; so I can give thought a body that can be dreamt of, that can be kissed, and that can be cherished even when my hand can no longer write.
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Creativity is a way to fall in love with life; with the way my hand wrinkles when I write. The way my skin folding resembles the clay I touch and paint strokes mimic my mothers wet hair. Creativity is the act of noticing and blending simple love into art.
