Dormant passion

Already long time ago my dear friends said that I had a thing for words. I didn’t understand what they meant, as if someone told me “You’ve got white skin”. But now I get it from more people, so I’ve looked at my hands and I finally see it. OMG, I was so blind for my own passion. It was in me all that time, sleeping like a volcano.

When I read the poems I had written months or years earlier I could not believe it was me who was responsible for bringing them to the world. I always felt more like a goodwife rather than a mother. Sometimes I had to remind myself to notice the work I’ve done and how meaningful it was. Even after 6 moths of blogging I have to remind myself that I am really doing it. Writing here is so rewarding. It’s like paying for everyone’s dinner at the restaurant, but when you get back home you find out that there’s more money on your bank account. Once you embark on a creative journey, there is no way back, simply because you’re not seeking it.

So, the volcano’s awaken. The steam’s coming up and the ground starts to shaken. Beware! It’s surely going to explode.

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THREE MEN AND A VOLCANO (AQUARELLE)

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