GottaReadHerondales

Words patter onto pages like drops of thought, orderly and disciplined from the storm cloud that is my mind. Language gives me clarity- frost melting from glass. The water turns to words in my storm cloud and when the bulk of them becomes too much they drop, tumbling through the air and through my fingers crashing down letters onto paper forming worlds in my name. I make characters out of candy floss clouds and settings out of beach sand.  Sun light pushes itself through my storm cloud sometimes and those time are the happiest my mind has ever know. I don’t write to make pretty sounding things, I write because I am a storm cloud with a