In between the letters is a place. To imagine what occurs—as a word is formed, as a choice is made—is to be a step closer to being in that space.

Sentences are made of more than words. Ideas, described. Pauses, illuminated.

Write with me
... as if I'm writing you
... as if I hear only your voice.

The writer is a person whose faucet of words continues to flow. There is no on/off switch. But, the writer—an author of freelance ways of the mind—can also take a nap. A good nap. And in that slumber, words dancing (or not), there is an inflection that breathes through inactivity that produces the artistic work.

"It happens whenever you look at me," he says of my morning look.

This bridge encapsulates a journey into the unknown somehow. To walk out onto this bridge into the fog along a treacherous cliff along old cobblestone seems precarious to say the least. Yet, it draws me in. If I were faced with this bridge in this moment, I would surely put one step in front of the other and venture out onto it.

Any iPhone owner who sends text messages has learned with practice that the auto-correct feature, which is usually turned on by default when you get your phone, is not always your friend. After using it for awhile it supposedly gets to know you with its artificial intelligence.

Has the internet changed our communications with love or friendships?  With the internet so easily accessible, it becomes the first mode of communication where words take on the greatest of meaning.  Do we become lost and literally zapped by the electromagnetic waves of cyberspace and lose touch with all other sources of reality that generate powerful connections in the first place?