Why do we write?
So that in this way our words will leave a trace.
We are embodied in words and someone, having read them, will remember and think about us.
So, a sprout planted in the ground grows into a tree and every spring puts on new foliage. And you can guess what the tree wants to say.
So in the evenings you know that in a moment the first star will rise into the sky, and after it another. And each has its own chronicle, its own history.
So on the road you walk on, traces remain.
And the road serves to lead to people, to bear human traces.
Words are neither leaves nor stars, but they retain a piece of the soul of the one who wrote them.
And in every word there is heaven and destiny.
And we write, addressing an unknown listener, dreaming of being heard and understood.
Words are the confession of the heart. To write means to give sound to the soul.