Frida Kahlo was once said, “I am not sick. I am broken. But  I am happy to be alive as long as I can paint.”  A kindred in words and love of nature posed this question:

“What is your paint?”

At first, I believed it would not take long to offer up my paint.  Then, having realized nothing is ever simple or easy with me, I acknowledged my reply would be no easier.  Truth is, I have several paints sharing equity in my happiness. However, there is one, above all others (though tying to the others) that fills me with delight.  Whenever the opportunity presents itself for me to put ink on paper, I am happy.  Thus, the words and my writing are my ultimate paint.  Words stir, brewing like a distant storm that, upon arrival, bring me peace. In these moments, there is only me – lost in words.


(Thank you for this exercise Julie.)




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