Saturday, 28 June 2014

Real letters

I write for me alone. Though I wish I had someone I could write to. I wish I could write letters again. The real letters. The ones where you can pour your entire soul out. But this new world has no time for letters. Or philosophies that take longer than a quotation.
My reality doesn't differ from anyone else's. I share the same dreams and hopes with millions of others. My fiction, however, finds no peer. And I know they exist. Not necessarily with the same fiction but with the same needs.
One that understands how complex the human soul can be. One who's not afraid to dive deeper into it. A writer and reader to share different opinions, different thoughts and different passions of the mind.
To stay aware. Sharp. To learn.

I wish I could write letters. And get letters in return.

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