Serendipities

‘I don’t write for anyone but me. I don’t write to you or for you. I write because I love to write.’

Merda. I mean, come on.....Of course I write for me, but I also write to you and for you. That’s why I post a Blog. Hello?!!

The intent of writing, after all, is the consideration of a reader. While the writer’s desire may be to articulate his experience for himself, the irresistible temptation to catch the reflection of what a reader may experience through his words is inescapable.





Once the words are indelible, an adventure begins: an adventure that is stimulated by you, the reader.

In writing, we keep a record of our conscience, a reckoning of lives lived. When we read someone else’s words, we discover the world of the person who experienced it. We feel the continuity and the wholeness of the writer. Their world thus intertwines with our own. Inevitable otherwise.

Writing is a discipline that merges the writer to the environment and to the reader. Every word written is at one time or another, read by an outsider. An outsider who is then pulled into the reality of the writer thus no longer existing as an outsider.

No matter how clandestine we wish to remain, ultimately, the intention of the writer is the consideration of his reader.

So, to those who read my words and are hesitant to leave a comment: avanti, coraggio – do some damage, inspire me.
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