A puzzling question why we write?

A puzzling question why we write?

The question puzzling And frequencyreverberate and occasionally between the curves and our involvement, question interrupt the silence and the darkness and surprises to haunt us for a convincing answer.

Why do we write?

Do you consider writing important social or humanitarian obligation? Is our allegation that the writing discloses to the mother spirit and disclosure some of her suffering? Do you write to quieten with our words and our candles hope our nation's long night? Do we try when we fly away to our images and her imaginations and her borrowings. escaping from the prison of the flesh? Do you write a desire eternity? Do you imagine our words a sword Swordsman in battle or Warrior racing against the wind or with liver deposited arch longing to aim?

• Write and complain than tulema sometimes arises in the depths of emotion and other times we are writing on behalf of someone who is not his pen and voice, writing sometimes to vent and relieve tired and overburdened consciences, we write in recognition of our humanity and our vulnerability and our slips, in the hope of forgiveness and repentance.

• Write to others weren't on speaking terms, claiming the ability to read thoughts, and try in vain to compassion, and a sense of some of the concerns.

• Write to influence and be influenced, we write an ad for our disobedience and we rebeled to such constraints and strings, we write a petition to see the world after narrow limitation on our souls, we write to relax the pain once, let us write many times; a desire to more pain firepow, we write for ourselves, and tsabira for anyone looking for the solace and comfort all loved and lost.

• We write because we are selfish love ourselves very much overpriced, and we love this openly without fear and shame, we write in recognition of our ignorance, and are looking for guidance and warm fire flame returns to mother love infinity, and the warmth of her lap and safe, like us when we write as a child standing on his toes, and tightens the size; to persuade the son of neighbors as the biggest and I understand, sometimes we try some words escape from prosecution and wardrobe, take off clothes, secretly without wetting your of our images and their way the sophisticated artificial their gravity, and we run a butterfly field, and laugh for no reason-laughs not Dissatisfied Rob tomorrow's thinking and concerns of the adult world a dreary.

• Write to restore some sense and sense, and free hot tears she locked his course, and the stubbornness of the spirit, we write for we dance with joy and hope we Court, write pain of missing Andalusia, mourn the fall of Baghdad, time after time, and raise the flag of Jihad, because of our words pay him unworthy prevent us, ask the liberation of the country and open hearts.

Our writings visions of happy escape on their wings of bitterness to God's promise, we write in search of peace and security, we must write, our cries of pain and strangled?, relentless and don't settle until you hear, we write to escape deadly unit to pen the entertaining company who travels to distant lands, where everything is new and exciting, not contemplated nor experienced before, run on guides to silence a raucous ceremony, lengthy conversations with an old friend, has not seen a long time ago.

• We write because we are fed up with talk that quickly evaporates into the air, we write because we are tired of their minds, the wise and sincere some vagaries of the madness, and penetrating the walls of impossible, we write because we adore and fear of flowers wilt, trying in vain to describe the be shy, rolled down her cheeks and her eyes alnasi, her lover.

• We write because we love to write, and when the pen without the permission of the persecution we crave, we dance with him shamelessly, and when shut up pen and attracts no less clear, feel the misery and manipulating us illusions lost, try to write despite fast violation pen and ink and paper designed a stand, we challenge the impossible to write, because behind the pen disturbed family of Falcon, Turkish truck drivers encounter hostility from the volcano quiet, eager to burst spewing lava red and purple, to burn the forest poor senile, and ashes of sacrifice for a better tomorrow and the nicest forest