Book Description

Every time I could not breathe, I wrote.Every time I could not live any more, I wrote.Every time I gave up, I wrote.Every time I loved too much, I wrote.To me, writing is synonymous with breathing.My poetry isn’t your polished fancy bouquet that is hand-delivered. It is that wild flower swaying to the rough northern winds and still surviving, oblivious to the world outside but dancing to its own rhythm.