Are writers not the best magicians? For not only can they hide a rabbit in a hat, but they know how to hide whole worlds, lands, castles, people; harnessing the power of fear and grief along side those of hope and faith and love.
I have been living in two worlds...
I have gone on an adventure to find a fallen star. I have traveled to far away lands with languages unheard by man kind. I have sat in the great concert halls of Venice. I have visited the four corners of the earth, before falling over the edge. Been a watch maker, a squire, a traveling gypsy.
The people I have seen, shared my meals with, listened to their stories by campfire. Characters I will never forget, though that I've also never meet. I love the direct out come of these worlds, there is an ending. All that has been accomplished, all that has been overcome, is now a lesson you know you learnt. All the little pieces are brought together to form the whole picture which you can now see.
Then there is the second world I find myself in...
Though not quite so full of dangerous adventures, and far away lands. There are all the characters you could ever hope to meet. There are those here I would travel to no end of lands for their safety. Although in reality the most I might ever be able to offer them is the love I carry with me, enough for them all. (For my heart will never be too full, it will only grow to fit everyone in.)
Days here sometimes drag by in a slow trudge of work, and responsibilities; although at times you want only to bury your head in the sand till the storm passes by, I would rather live in this painful, hard, rewarding, unpredictable life than any fairy world that I like to visit in my stories.
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