Writing is like painting. You start with a blank canvas, then make the first mark. A word, a thought, an idea. Nothing of value, but if you keep adding, layer upon layer, you get depth. Then begins the extraction, chipping away at the varnish, clawing through the acrylic, revealing what’s hidden between the words. If you are lucky, a truth begins to emerge. Like an angel sent from the heavens, a gift from the gods, a voice beyond your own.