I sit in my treeI sing like the birdsMy beak is my penMy songs are my poems.

And what is wrong with playing with words? Words love to be played with, just like children or kittens do!

A school for the writing of nonsense and the pursuit of extraordinary activities.

Writing will be like a journey, every word a footstep that takes me further into undiscovered land.

Then what shall I write? I can't just write that this happened then this happened then this happened to boring infinitum. I'll let my journal grow just like the mind does, just like a tree or beast does, just like life does. Why should a book tell a tale in a dull straight line? Words should wander and meander. They should fly like owls and flicker like bats and slip like cats. They should murmur and scream and dance and sing.