“Did you ever feel this way? Did you ever feel a thousand words swimming through your veins, but they never slowed down enough for you to catch a few? Did you ever stare endlessly at a page, unable to find the words you could feel in your heart? A bird is singing above me. It always knows the song it wants to share with the world. Just like the song I heard at school—written by a boy whose violin is all he needs to create an entire story. I keep trying to keep pieces of you alive. I want to write the way you wrote. But I’m not you. And I’m not him. And I’m not a bird.”
Book:Beneath