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My concern is to question what we can learn from the stories of others.
As I write, I constantly ask myself, “To what extent are we reflections of one another?”
This sense of reflective identity–of revelation through comparison–inspires me in my writing.
I have a tendency to aimlessly wander through graveyards in the middle of the night. Standing before a marker–whether it’s a seven-foot-tall marble crucifix or a modest stone worn smooth by the rain–I can’t help but wonder, “Who lies buried here? What sort of life did they live? What love did they leave behind?”
The answers to these questions are the makings of stories.
These are the stories I tell–ethereal and unflinching–stories that refuse to lie buried. |
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Copyright . David Peak. All rights reserved.
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