Images continually flash across my inner vision like scenes from a film without an ending…They haunt me even in my sleep and most nights I lay awake, tired, spent, heavy-eyed yet awake.
The images are more vivid now. I can’t ignore them anymore. They crave to be carved in a printed page. Gaunt filthy faces with eyes that burn with rage against vicious mocking fate emerge out of the shadows demanding my attention. Unheard voices call to me to write their pleas… their lamentations. And their silent cry has finally pierced my …
And now I have to make a choice. To write or not to write…
