Does a falling leaf know where the wind will let it rest?
Does a blank canvas know what will be created of it?
i have read only as far as the story has been written.
Wrote with Love is a garden. it is every flower and blade of grass growing in that garden, every worm, man and ram living in that garden and it is the last words of every life that has ended in the shade of its trees. It is the print left by the hand of countless visitors