V. Naa Takia

ImageCourtesy: writeabetternovel.net

ImageCourtesy: writeabetternovel.net

A prophet’s words are nothing of his own like the words that drop from the tip of a writer’s ink. Both are borne of a greater will and must exile their hearts to places unknown. As the beads that outline and define the contours of a woman’s waist, they are vessels that must make more room for one more and be the edge that will lead frail hearts on into believing what exists, what doesn’t, or even both…who cares?

A writer is what I say we all become, out of too much knowledge when what we see isn’t what we think we see and what we are isn’t what we see ourselves to be. When ordinary words begin to weigh too much on us and go viral like that madman who roamed my mother’s village telling us that his father wasn’t the son of his father…I laugh. Words!…

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