Forgetting the ghosts that I once belonged to, I leave them in sunflower fields. Walking 20 miles south From here, I realise the world is made of color. The river between Grey and sunflower-yellow is thirty-six thousand feet deep; varying between Colours of you and me. Leaving the cemeteries of grey I find myself somewhere in-between dark and light~ No other colour can describe this; except maybe the world
I tell the neophyte: Write a million words–the absolute best you can write, then throw it all away and bravely turn your back on what you have written. At that point, you’re ready to begin. — David Eddings
Gender:
Points: 60
Reviews: 47