For months, I have been prying myself with one question: who
told you that you could stop writing?
I have blamed a trip to India, busy semester, job
applications, exhaustion, John Ray, a “boring” life; anything and everything to
excuse my lack of words. At the end of the day, though, whether or not anyone
reads the words, I sincerely do believe it is my obligation to write. As Pablo
Neruda explains in “Deber del Poeta,” it is the writer’s obligation to write
the sea into life for those who cannot experience it for themselves.
I promise I will return. And soon.
