Shaylynn

There’s something alluring about lead scribbles on light blue lined paper. It’s oddly poetic to read over the words that were crossed out, the words that will never make it beyond the page. Those ugly grey smudges testifying to imperfection give meaning to the endless connotations. It’s the lead scribbles that transform a mind into a perfectly painted landscape that bends and curves with every comma and colon. For a moment the mind holds them, suspended.