annajade

fictionpress

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There's a place in this sad, hate-ridden world that I long for, a place that I was not born to yet feel unrelenting loyalty to. It's natural beauty and bloody history beckons me like a bee with a pot of honey. Even with it's blood-lust and harshness, there's a purity and ethereality to it that seems uncanny to any other location. There's only one place that my heart aches to go: Scotland.

Imagination is an astounding gift, there's almost a childlike decadence to it's creativity. It's what makes us dreamers live another day, breathe another sigh, and wander reality with a head held high. Our heads in the clouds, and the only way to express it is in Writing.

There's a world that we haven't known unless beneath the pages of the books that so many despised. Stories that had come to pass throughout the centuries. What inspires many of us to be who we are, where we learn from the mistakes and where we learn that we never will. History is a passion of what had been and will never be again.

Traveling is sure to be one of our many dreams. Let's hope we do it before the day we turn 70.