His words took me back to the basics. Back to when my words were stories about my life and how I saw the world and not about the likes of comments left.
Back to when my words were pure and authentic and I didn’t care who agreed it not, they were my words and that made them precious.
His words took me back to why I really enjoyed writing. Telling stories in a way only I could; in my own voice. Passing a message in the best way I knew how.
I got nostalgic with every sentence I read of his work and I felt my inner person awake with excitement to my having found my way back home. To what it was supposed to be all along.
The way he told stories made me miss the way I told stories and now that the itch has been awoken, I’m afraid I can no longer ignore. I will have to oblige and get back to the basics of my writing.
Inspired by one bikozulu.com