Simultaneously difficult, yet pleasurable – writing, that is – to flesh out in ink and, if willed right, to leave imprinted on paper, an eternal stamp of you. . . destination undisclosed.
Ah, the ink soaked paper of eternity – confessions, blood red, and stained on the dead dregs of a time-nurtured tree.
Écriture féminine . . .
Write your self. Your body must be heard. Only then will the immense resources of the unconscious spring forth. Our naptha will spread, throughout the world, without dollars -black or gold- non-assessed values that will change the rules of the old game.
~ Helene Cixous, “The Laugh of the Medusa”
