The Power of Words to Isolate.
Writers must be lonely people. Done properly, writing is an endeavour which requires long hours of solitude (“‘What do you do here all day?’…’Write things.’”). A fatal yet definitive occupational hazard if writers are to be entrusted with the job of reading between the lines of human existence.
I cannot write. Literally: my right hand grips pens in such a headlock that it will hurt itself after a few paragraphs; my left hand behaves like a baby around writing tools. Utterly: sometimes words so escape me, all that comes out is a written equivalent of the gaspy back-of-throat hocking sound so often resort to in Korean conversations.
So it goes.
