The room is small with little space for inspiration. A quilt with green and blue flower prints brings color to the off white walls that hold nothing except poorly painted pictures that have no real meaning at first glance but I am writing like a madman scribbling down anything that grabs my attention. In the past few days life has been crucial but self-realization set in giving me strength to believe in what I am and what I do. I love the flow of the pen gliding through lines as if a script has been written and all that’s left to do is memorize. It is a nice getaway. My spirits are at its all-time peak and I know that I shall be admired someday.
March 6, 1998