The written word is the most precious and intimate window into the human condition.
Scriptwriting
Poetry.
Let her breathe. Let her be water. Sweet water. Saltwater. Let her be silence. Let her roar behind crashing waves rushing to the seashore like lovers who come back to one another. Let her be roots turned into trees into nests into home. Let her be sun and moon. Let her be light and grey. Let her be twirling leaves in the fall. Let her weep in the winter. Let her sing with the birds in the spring. Let her be love in the summer. Let her be life. Let her be birth. Let her be.
— Earth