Today, I hold my writing as sacred. The closest I have ever come to an out of body experience; to Aristotelian catharsis. This piece, hopefully, sums up what I (and most probably most other artists), feel about their work.
Apodyopsis: noun: the act of mentally undressing someone.
You notice when someone’s writing clothes them; when metaphors act as defence mechanisms to shield against the hazards of an exposed soul. When you read their writing, and they’re watching you, you should know that they’re sitting there, sheets clenched to their bodies, gingerly loosening their grip and letting blood colour their previously death pale knuckles. When you’re telling them that it makes you feel, they’re letting themselves breathe normally and not sucking in their stomachs anymore. When you’re turning the page and getting instantly lost in the next fragment of their bared mind, know that they’re lying next to you, at ease, saying the words in their minds with you,as you read. When you’re looking at them and telling them with your eyes that you think they’re talented, they’re lying there, exposed and vulnerable. When you’re reading someone’s writing, you’re indulging in apodyopsis.
Fragile: Handle with care.