I wish I knew where it came from. I had a really great idea for a short story. The idea was stellar, but the execution of that idea was less than perfect.

I wanted to write a story that involved the artform of graffiti. I wanted the characters to communicate with each other through scribbled words on a train car.

The idea was weird enough and I could make it work. But I couldn’t. The writing of the story was laborious at best. It was straight forward and uninspired. I like what I wrote but I wasn’t motivated to continue with the story. There were better things to do.

Out Of Nowhere

And something happened tonight. The words started flowing. I don’t know where they came from. I now have a solid original quirky story that fits my style.

I would love to hear you opinion as well

I’m Mark

His friends observe Mark seems wired a little differently. Perhaps it’s more likely that noticing little things often missed by others is a relic of a quieter, simpler time. He has a way with words, which he refuses to let be hindered by sub-par typing skills. People have great stories to tell if you sit and listen.

A belief dear to Mark is that there is certain beauty in the world. You simply have to look for it.

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