Thyme

i have let my work take me over. There’s so much work to be done. So I read plays endlessly. And talk about plays and talk about writing and which books to read next . It’s lovely how the tiniest touch, a whisper, of a touch, a millimeter exchange of skin, can become so effective, so monumental, so gigantic in the mind. Ah and the feeling of skin on skin, cheek on cheek. It keeps me singing. I’ve realized I’m not someone who likes to play it safe, I’d rather risk it all, which is frightening, but filled with heartbreaking satisfaction in the end. To touch. To risk. To love.  

                                      

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

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