I like to watch people writing.

Certain people, not everyone. The ones that are creating.

It’s invisible; you see the air between their eyes and the paper. The pencil that stains a bit, graphite smeared over words. I like to watch them put word and word together until there are no words anymore, just long chains of thoughts, of questions, answers, knots being tied.

I like to see their potential unraveling.

I like to watch their hands break the still white of the paper. I like their motion when they are curving the character of their letters. I like to see them frown, as though it were a bad thing, as though they were their own trouble.

I like to see them tame their tones, their voices. I like to see dialogue and quotes. I like to see pain and pleasure embitter the outcomes.

I like to see people thinking. I like to watch them turn the paper and use physical motion as a blank space, a pause, in their minds.

I like to see them reverse their own notions.

I like to see them giving birth to possibility.

I like to feel that possibility.

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