MaddyMyu

"How do you write?" Some may ask. Maybe even ask myself. But the question is the same, no matter what pair of lips it is spoken from. The question is the same, but the answers will vary. I write laying on my stomach, on the floor, surrounded by a mess of Legos and stuffed dolls, my cat occasionally walking over me, treating me like a rug, butting her head on my shoulder, as if to demand my undying attention. That's one answer, if I took the question quite literally. Another answer is this: I don't write, I think. And my fingers move. I vomit my thoughts onto the keyboard and hope, sometimes futilely, that they make sense.