Stress and oppression can hurt or help creativity

  Today is a tough day. I'm dealing with stuff and there's a tight knot in my chest and work is taking twice as long because my concentration is off, to put it mildly. There is worry crying out from behind my head, knocking on my door, demanding attention - but it'll only make things... Continue Reading →

What its like to read or write:

The stress of the world, of rushed long work days, of all the injustice, the organized routine hypocrisy makes aching holes in your chest and labours your breathing and hangs from your cheeks as a disproportionate, unreasonable, impossible weight. Then you read something - a poem, a story - little drops of humanity - and... Continue Reading →

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