Writing is freezing time to express an idea.
Yet, the words are not the idea in itself, they represent it.
You records moments of thoughts, emotions, sensations, memories, imagination and beliefs which form a mosaic click of reality.
The next day you read what you wrote and things are not the same.
Do you stick to the memory of yesterday, or do you make the changes to adjust the rhythm and flavors of today?
Do you get to a point in which it’s clear crystal and stand on its own quality no matter what, when, and how?
Is this an independent entity of art?
Does it have any connection to the original passion of writing you had in first place?
Is the process more important then the outcome?
just observing the multi layers of writing...