Write Even.

Write, even there is nothing to write about. Scribe, even when there is no impetus to. Stroke the pen, empty its ink. Or glide those fingers on the keyboard's surface. And see how the cursor blinks and how the white space is consumed by thin black lines and curves trying to paint a simple picture.

Write, to see how the mind works. How it unburdens itself with thoughts not so usual. Feel the movement of letters and words as they encapsulate a meaning. A meaning never originally meant nor intented.

Write, to move your world and present a case. Capture the transition of the moment. Express that instantaneous emotion unraveling within the marrow of your humanity. Grasp that subdued eternity imprinted by the mute workings of the synapses.

Write, and write freely as if there are no rules; no codes to interfere and block your liberty. For in writing, you create your own world. You paint your own picture. And you sensitize with your emotions and experiences that holds on to the sensibility of your meaningless and empty life.