No creation of merit can be created without first digesting the written-down genius of those whose shoulders pad our feet.
The writer is a carnivorous beast with an eye for talent It would be a fool’s errand to venture into a vacuum
in an attempt to find anything of artistic merit. The greatest accomplishments recorded by a collective arthritic hand are merely flawed reflections of the natural beauty in others’ magnificent work.
A writer puts into words the common thoughts of the people who won’t elaborate upon their own condition.
So it lies with the beleaguered scribe to illustrate in tomes both engaging and mundane what the rest of the world would gladly walk over.
There are no thanks for reminding the world of it’s shortcomings, but there is also no rebuke for shining light upon the sullied truths for which no one wishes to lay a claim. And therein lies the writer’s world-
cared for by few and searched for by those who have already recognized the societal malaise dripping all over the front pages of tomorrow’s papers.