and the emotions that stir my blood causes nostalgic (albeit involuntary) convulsions as i watch ink bleed letters on paper. from intangible energy in the womb of my mind to undeniable proof of either my stupidity or my genius ah... the graceful strokes of the pen as it fills the emptiness of paper. there is no other word for it. it is utter bliss... my ideas may fade. and i may run out of words. but the pen will always have an affair with paper...