Ah geez. It's come to my attention that I'm more of a scribbler than a writer. I just scribble, scribble, scribble all day. Nibbling away at pieces of paper but never really filling up on anything. There's a word for it in Spanish that someone very special and very pretty told me once, but I can't remember it. I think it started with a 'p'. I remember her mother confirming that I did in fact eat as if I had been born with feathers and wings. I would argue, however, that my mouth has much more to offer than any beak. The lips alone are too much too handle. Especially when I first come out of dreaming. Swollen with all of my sleep, they usually just sag until I've had my first inspiration to scribble.

No more. Time to feast.