I wonder. What I’d do. If I lost my inclination. To write.
Maybe it would be the same. As deciding to stop breathing. I’d be dead. Some
things I have to do. In order to stay alive. The list includes. Falling in
love. With something. Such as writing. Or someone. Such as my Italian true
love. Maybe being in love. Is more important. More essential. Than writing. I could
still settle for thinking loving thoughts. Can’t remember exactly when I wrote
my first word. Certainly, it was years after my first spoken word. As for love.
I don’t know when that first happened. Maybe it doesn’t matter. It seems like
forever. --Jim Broede
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