When I was little, I used to draw letters on top of my mother’s writings, even though I did not know how to write. I used to thicken the markings in this old notebook of hers, in which the letters had gradually started to fade. I have always had a fascination with words…words written…words spoken…words yelled out loud. And while I was still figuring out their meaning as I was growing up, words started to unravel themselves to me…heavy words…foreign words….complicated quarrels of topics, grammar and literary design. By the time I became an adult, I started to have my own way with words. I was long past reproducing content with a pen. I started to get fictional. I published my first short story, I read my work out loud. I took on some criticism. Never learned how to deal with that…by the way. Today, I find it rather amusing, that as much as I have always tried to further myself away from writing, life has always found this unusual….fate favoring way of not letting me stray away from it. I have never believed in destiny…and I am surely not going to start trusting in it now. But if my fortune stands in tinting a little bit of this world with my ink…than so be it.
My name is Marcela…and I go by Casiopeea on my blog https://pryintocasiopeea.wordpress.com/ which you are most welcomed to check out for more on my travels and lifestyle tips.
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