Don’t read.
I haven’t written anything I want to read. I want my words to become a language on their own, to dance before your eyes, to sing to you in the silence. I haven’t written anything I want to read. I want my words to sketch characters in your mind, to fill your nights with colorful dreams, to show you sparks on a bright day. I want my words to be yours when you lose your own, to say what’s true when you’re in doubt, to be with you when I can’t. I haven’t written anything I want you to read.