I expect to write as long as I’m mentally and physically able. I realize, though, it’s possible there may come a time when I no longer feel the need to write. My present sense of the matter is this: the longer I write, the nearer I come to the beginning; I am now in my childhood, working steadily towards infancy; the very moment I’m born, I’ll lay down my pen, and begin again, at the end.
September 6, 2020. Afternoon.
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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Aging, Birth, Childhood, Diaries, Infancy, Journals, Work, Writing
William Michaelian 