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And so I write.

A soft breeze that rustles the leaves, a grill hardly used but told to be useful, the smell of dew, two aspens towering above in a green wood, all the elements of the porch where I write, in the log cabin where I poured over the details of my novel, putting it all together, that five-year long puzzle, and once occupied by my grandfather, who rested his shotgun above the fireplace, and held me on his lap while he mowed the lawn under the September sky, the same place where I now put the pen to the page and question my ability to write, asking if I’m good enough, or good at all, for who am I but a man trying to express himself and find meaning in this mystery of existence, escaping from his reality, the chaos of the city, the social media that has spread through our organs like a disease, distracting people from what’s in front of them, since now we have two worlds, the virtual and the real, and we have to make a choice how much to invest in either, but the important thing is to choose, not to check facebook (which I refuse to capitalize) because your friends do, or tweet because you’re bored, or sift through emails instead of reading a book and learning about the wonders of the world! Don’t forget that you come from the Earth – go for hikes, smell the fresh air of a scented forest, walk along the beach as the your toes sink into the sand, leave that place where your heart won’t stop beating, where you life has become an object, that phone, an inconceivable thought ten years past, yet this is all the younger generation knows – how will we show them that there is more?

Alas, I sit on the porch of the cabin, where I wrote my book, and am disturbed by the same thoughts I had then, but at least I have the pages I wrote – but is it enough? I should enjoy the success and not sacrifice happiness, but I must also seek something more, discover hidden truths, and write what I must write, for I can do better, and what do we have but time – should we not try to make the most of it? To make our mark, sure, everyone understands that in our modern career-driven existence, but what about giving to others, helping the sick and the poor, fighting for justice, teaching our youth to have a moral center, and helping the Earth, which we all share? Let us not lose touch, nor forget the many ways we ought to contribute to humanity, and let us learn to recognize that what we do matters, and try to improve this gift we’ve been given, the world, and our ever so precious lives.

And so I write.

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