The ‘masterpiece’ which I chose to create was always, I think, going to be via writing, scribbles, whichever I might like to call it and at any given time. Since I was knee-high… blah. blah, blah, it has been the thing in me which I yearn for achieving the most. There are other things, too, but for the time-being, and for a fair bit of the past decade, it has only been the aforementioned writing. I love it. I love that I can think about a new poem-piece and seemingly at any given time. I love that I can somehow manage to turn over a new-leaf and try and improve with every seen-to-be failing on my part with regards the scribbles. That’s how I made it work over a couple of decades of resilient style-making with the words. And now? Well, I don’t know how proud I can feel, but I certainly know what I am doing, why I am doing it, and what it means to me. Writing isn’t a lonely pursuit unless you see it that way as an individual. I don’t. But, then again, it doesn’t seem to need to take me hours and days and weeks and months, and years, even, to create these particular pieces of mine and all bolstered up in a room for what feels like forever and ever. That took a fierce amount of work too on my part. A kind of level of depth in studying how my mind takes to certain things that I see, in studying people and their expressions and demeanours, etc. until such a time as, well, it feels rather simple and automatic, actually. I’ll keep on chasing the masterpiece, though. Whatever it takes 🙂