Trying to turn fleeting thoughts into words.
It’s a truth I’ve wrestled with: not all readers are writers, though all writers are surely readers. Reading is my sanctuary, my muse. The greatest works of literature unfold like worlds I can slip into effortlessly. Yet, when I try to write, my thoughts, those fleeting, brilliant sparks that flare while reading or daydreaming, vanish like smoke.
27th August, 2025
