All the writers, artists of the past, of the epic, of times when everything uttered or written was dewy and untouched, all of them have taken my words.
Used them up.
Tattooed them in the minds of the world and the worldly, so that I cannot say anything because I am creating nothing.
Everything has become trite and overused. Nothing is new- and new, fresh, virgin is the only god served by those in charge of all things literary.
Am I to write a new alphabet? String symbols together like milky saltwater pearls on a necklace?
Even I do, how will the words be different? How will they be new?
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