This is a story that usually I write in white ink, but most people miss it & start to read too much into it & think it says something about life they couldn’t figure out themselves. So, now I write only with stuff people can read & say things as clearly as I can. Like this: don’t believe anyone who writes with white ink on white paper. They have too much to hide....
I have always thought that stars turn into white birds in the morning light & sleep with their heads under their wings until the dusk begins to walk through the streets....
Often, I write all day long with white ink on white paper, late into the night, until it is all I can do to feel the letters curving to earth from the tip of the pen & then, I fall asleep. Dreaming of running, or maybe driving in a car the color of water & I wake the next day remembering nothing & I gather the stack of paper & a pen of black on the desk in front of me & the words begin to dance over the page like long legged...
The three quotes are from storypeople.
The picture #2 is an old painting of me...
I was in the mood for playing and that I've made to the promt "White" at
