Creative endeavours galore are stuck in my head, scrabbling to get out.
Some have made it out already. Some are complete.
Many are incomplete, written in their infancy.
I am humble in my awe of writers worth their salt.
I am less humble with those who self-aggrandise, feel self-important.
I love writing to such an extent that, when i die, i will laugh that i have lived well enough to be able to write.
My greatest desire is that mankind will one blessed day, cease to kill his fellows and his fellow creatures, and live in harmony and peace, with one another.
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