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Her words are like a fine red wine.
I consume them and I become intoxicated.
Her pen is akin to Monet's brush.
With each stroke an exquisite landscape is created.
Her imagination is kindred to a child's.
The imagery she depicts is brilliantly vivid.
Her tongue is like a silken web.
The stories she spins draw me in and I become entangled.
Her works are like that of an architect.
Solidly constructed in their uniqueness.
Her pain and joy are much like my own.
The tears and smiles have touched my soul.
To write with such passion; I know how that feels.
But to speak to the heart of another, that is my supplication.