It is human to want to write to be published to say something witty and wait to be heard we mark the walls with buffalo everyone a writer.

A puzzle in the mix we sometimes wonder over talent something innate and hard covered born in some of us.

All of us have some innate talent, inmates writing on the back of soup wrappers it always develops improving with time.

There is something about freshness the nut cracked still green pistachio hued scattered against the seat.

Writing evolves fish with feet fish without feet fish laying eggs fish squirting sperm on eggs reading same chances.