She tells me “write, and never stop writing.” She pauses for a second before continuing, “for the one that creates, never disintegrates.”

“I am nothing but a personified soul that spews out meaningless words.” I reply.

“And yet you give reason and feeling to consonants and vowels that once meant nothing.” She tells me, peering over me or is she staring straight into my cortex? I can’t seem to figure that out through her black beaded pupils.