Screaming Kids, Barking Dogs, and Peace?

Once upon a time, there was this girl.  She was pretty fucking awesome, if I do say so myself.  She kept journals, of life, songs, poems.  Scraps of movie tickets, pictures of friends.  A piece of her soul she carried with her everywhere.

This girl is a woman now.  One who has the words overflowing inside her, but lacking the will to write it all down.  Maybe it's age.  Experience.  Life is hectic, a rat race.

But then one afternoon, as she sat under her window, words began to spill out again.

Maybe her new journal was the inspiration.  The smell of leather.  The feel of paper, the way the binding felt right in her hands.

Maybe it was the sound of the neighborhood kids outside.  Laughing.  Playing.  Bickering.  Being children, her own amongst them.  Something magical about those sounds, a song of her youth.

It could have been the contentment she felt, drinking another cup of coffee in her pajamas while the world turned on outside her home.  A day of rest, well deserved.

Either way, magic took root again, and the ink began to flow, and words.  Words spilled from her soul.

I hope they never dam up again.

Find your own inspiration: http://a.co/ajmpDXF