Delicate soul

“Life isn’t a support system for art,” said Stephen King. “It’s the other way around.”

Above is another saying of his that gave me some motivation to write today. When you’re creating a piece of art yourself, even if that is only a daily post by a novice like me, one of the most vital factors which help decide its value is the people you want to share it with. And more importantly, it’s those to whom you wish to convey your message honestly.

I have often written to abstract audiences as if it has always been the most natural thing for me to do. Sometimes, I wrote to the only person whom I wanted to give the post as a present, but the language inside still reflected a vague atmosphere. Many a day of writing have passed for just one simple reason, one important person, or one particular word, being transformed into a long post of thoughtful arguments here.

Today, I am thinking of something more sensible that has just come to my eyes. What if I wrote for my city? To my city? Or to the community I am living with? How would my voice get changed then?

I’ve been living in this ward, part of Hanoi capital since I was born. I still remember the story Mom used to tell me on that day when I first came to the life, people were celebrating a national holiday for soldiers in the hospital. And that special day was also the beginning time of Winter every year, which has left a deep impression on my heart ever since. I spent all my life until now, enjoying every single Winter, and the first season which I could recall was when I was at age 6, in the morning before going to the primary school. I was sitting on a chair of my house, waiting for Mom to pick me up. The cold was severe that day when compared to the endurance of a kid like me. My body was freezing, when I was hugging my arms to persist. It should be natural if I said I hated to go out every morning in Winter.

But that has never been the case. Until now, nothing has changed. 

I’ve been loving the way things go since the first day I acknowledged the place where I belong to. Especially in Winter. Whenever the season comes, on the first day when a cold breeze or a heavy rain appears, my mornings always have a more special taste than ever. Since when I was just a kid, I’ve been enjoying every breath in the air and watching the atmosphere change itself. A breath full of clear water evaporation was what I loved the most. I seemed to become a livelier person when Winter arrived. I looked at people around more and shared things cheerfully when there was a cold movement in the air. This feeling could never be described fully by words, so from time to time, I always want to write a story to memorize every year I live in this place.

From now on, I’ll try to write about my Winter with people here.

One thought on “Delicate soul

  1. Pingback: Author Interview – DC Miller – Jellyfish: A Novella (Baby Succubus Book 1) (Paranormal/Urban Fantasy) | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

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