Hailing from the Country many Merchants aptly called ‘the Golden Bird’ … Inde (India) , as the french call it…
I don’t taste expensive wines or grill spiced meat. Neither do I drive around in BMW’s or shop at Barney’s , NYC.
I am, but a humble person, living her life her way with No Reservations and whipping up Creativity as she passes through Vintage Streets in her Scooty, Ear-phones plugged into her ears, playing music from her iPod.
At home, she would sit in one corner of her bed, a diary with dog-eared pages opened upon her lap and a pen (whose cover lost itself in the tides of time) in her hand. Images of Caribbean Winds , English Castles, Mythical Creatures, Fae Dust, the pancakes on the pan (which she is yet to attend to) and a myriad of other things swim in and out of her mind as she scribbles down a plot… scratches of a certain line and re-writes. This goes on.
By dusk, she is ready with what can be called a script (though the burnt pancakes had to be dished into the bin) … she sits before her beauty of a computer, a present from her Mother, enters her blogand types what she wrote and posts it’s link onto her other sites… ignoring messages and notifications that crowd up.
She has work to do. She has a place to go to… dreams to work towards… yet she shall never let her writing, which she holds closest to her heart, ever be ignored.
Only the words that she inks onto the paper or types onto her computer, that are her solace, inspiration, motivation, love and passion.
Everything else can wait until later.
As she wakes from the trance, she remembers she has application forms to fill out, dinner to make and well, other stuff that teenage people going to University, like studying, do.
Adiós, por ahora. (Bye, for now)
Arrivederci (See you later) !