abbey-cerebrum

She sang songs for a while, softly, and listened to the cries of birds, unknown and unseen birds, off in the forest, retreating to their nests for the night, heads nestled under fold of wing, retiring into the simple harmless dreams of avian sleep. (A bird has no cerebrum.)

Thought:

“Writing is that activity that makes me feel alive in a context that would like for me to be dead. So writing for me is always a form of dissent, voting with my feet, so to speak. I would prefer to sit and write to doing what I had every opportunity to do: make money.”

Curtis White

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