How many writers are there in the world? Well, we know people make marks, and other species like to paint and voice and sing and sign and … we don’t really know yet.
That’s a lot of writers, if you stretch the definition. And let’s.
Some will paint with images, some with words, some with strings and guts and wood. Some will paint cartoons, some satires, some portraits, some lampoons.
That is their right, and their need. Who are we to judge? Do I fear that another will take the writings or signs I leave behind, or their shadows, or their rumors, and post them like a leaked sex tape on the web? No. I rather trust they will, for I know how people are.
That’s it: this is how people are. The only thing we can do is ask ourselves
Is this how I want to be?