Just me

I am old.

Not literally.

I live in the past where classical music ruled, art was beautiful, and books were'nt things of the past.

I am peculiar but beautiful.

Poe, Hemingway, and Shakespeare inspire the young.

A piece of paper, a pen, and words are enough to stop the craving.

I crave help and attention.

The scent of a new book never gave me this certain high until now.

Metaphorically speaking of course.

Knowledge is key and college is the gateway.

The stars guide me into this sense of tranquility.

Beethoven, Yiruma, Newmark, and Long posse my heart.

Netflix is life but so is writing.

I am a relic of the past trying to survive in a new world.