Just finished my english lit final, and it was a killer... compare and contrasting victorian lit with modernist/post-modernist and post-colonialist, and I am the better for it. There was a time in my life when I used to love to write and I can feel that stirring again and I am eager to meet myself therein once more. I have spent so much time avoiding who and what I am, but the veil is being lowered and my core can once more feel the sun. The warmth, the stirring; that words-simple letters arranged just so could stir the soul and revive a dormant being....

  the awakening..