Good morning to all of you or perhaps good evening.
I do not really know, What time is it now as you turn the pages of my book, dear reader? I am certain it is one o'clock after midnight. If you are anything like me, midnight has always been the most suitable time for me to read and dive into my book words and others thoughts.
I am a single woman who never chose to spend the night patting her husband's shoulder while the sound of his snoring echoes through the street and escapes from the windows of the house, disturbing the neighbors. That was exactly how my elderly neighbor used to snore so loudly that his piercing snores could pass through the walls of the building. For the longest time, that alone was reason enough for me to avoid marriage.
Instead, I chose to write.
I chose to cherish every page that carries words whether they resemble me or differ from me.
And despite all differences and endless choices, I decided to dive deeply into my own imagination.
Being alone with those words while the light of a star slowly fades, painting the sky with a color unlike any other a single shining star in a dark blue sky leaning toward black has always been my favorite part of the entire day. A luxurious color, don't you think ? I know it is.
And the quiet night, the only companion who shared my books and my thoughts the thoughts I carefully chose to become my other face in a mirror crafted by my own hands was, and still is, my favorite friend, even now as the seconds pass.
I will not prolong this introduction. I was never fond of too many words, and I have always been somewhat reserved. I prefer to go straight to the heart of the matter whenever I wish to speak about something.
Words have never been enough to contain what moves within my mind. I believe that even ten thousand words would not be sufficient.
So hold carefully what lies in your hands.
It is not merely words written on paper, nor is it empty paper.
These are my feelings the only ones that never found a listener. A feeling of affection that once had a companion, but life refused it. It rose, resisted, and now it suffers… yet it has not surrendered.