I have always been a writer.
Since the moment I’ve learned to compose letters together my thoughts were able to touch paper
and I lived my life in books rather than on the streets.
I love the smell of book covers or when you feel the fabric in your hands, fingers tracing the fronts.
I could just stick my nose into books and sniff the words into my lungs.
I thought of all the things that I must do in my life, was to write one.
Many of my diaries contain descriptions about
how writing was not a simple must, it was an urging need.
The only way to express myself.
I think poetry has given me so much.
I feel like I’ve become so sensitive to myself and to the world around me from reading poetry.
I feel like it’s helping me grow gracefully into an adult.
Written on the sidelines of my diary there were things such as I won’t ever grow up.
I remember girls changing in primary school, whom talked about fashion, boys & periods.
Whereas, I was an outcast who’d still play with imaginary dragons as friends.
I’d lie if I say I never miss that time.
But as all good things come to an end, new adventures will be in store.
& I will be taken away by the greatest adventure of all, called life.
I share a deep adoration of culture.
I can’t imagine not loving the deep knowledge that lies within Buddhism,
or the complicated and natural healing methods of India, the food from continents.
The atmosphere and people waiting to inspire me with their life-stories.
The powerful landscapes that enchanted me from America and
yet undiscovered poetic ways of the world,
waiting for me to fill my lungs and to be soaked into my skin.
Until it’s enough but it will never be enough.
So I will keep on taking in & keep on moving.
When I heard the word nomad, I knew my life felt like I was made to pass souls,
look through them and learn to earn their trust.
My forever-ever learning process was inspired by the word nomad
and thus I feel like home is being on the way.
Learn a bit of everything and everything of a bit.
Posted on: January 16, 2013