Georg E Mateos, click
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Blogs by Georg E Mateos
Solitude 11/23/2006 1:51:52 AM
You know what? I am too old to sit and wait and see if someone out there can see me or if I'm another tree inside an uninteresting forest.
The day I fall I will be making a sound...even if you aren't there to heard my final thud.
Solitude.
A writer does his or her job in solitude, without distractions, thrown down deep into the emotions labyrinth which are dictating the words.
A writer's solitude is a lonesomeness imposed by the yearn to write in peace.
That kind of solitude is self imposed,wanted, wished if not granted all the time.
Then...it's "the" writers solitude.
The one made of silence.
When nobody tells you nothing, when you aren't acknowledged
for what you are and what you wrote...you feel to have been writing in the sand with the avancing sea water already licking every letter of every word.
As you go, you turn around to see your work...the waters left a flat expanse of empty sand, to the world...you wrote nothing, to the next pair of eyes passing through...the virging sands would say "your feet trample on yesterdays."
I hope I am not writing on the sands by the sea, and that the next pair of eyes coming by, read this words and tell me that silence is the absence of sound...not of caring.
