the author, lost for words, look at her pen in mild despair. the craft of her hands fail her. the words which sought to be written and spoken are not found in human language, but in the intangible recesses of the soul. a desire, an ernestness, a yearning. a burden which ceased not through the produced prose, but deepens and weighs with each word spoken. utterances which come out empty. a search for words which do not exist.
it swirls in her thoughts and manifests in her actions. but words, which continue to fail her, continue to elude her. bounded by social rules, locked by distance.