I will write until my fingers are blue and stiff from this winter, and then I ll keep on writing Until I’m lost in new thoughts… again. Thoughts our eyes, watching the universe perceiving itself. Until I become the words- personified as alphabets and characters, the structure and harmony and flow. It hurts, but it’s okay because when I become the thought, I’m not me anymore. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty. i am the witness!