She painted thousands of paintings and left them around the city. Just small ones- they’d fit in the palm of your hand. She left them in the middle of the night. Most of them were cleaned up or went unnoticed. But a week later when she got on a train, she saw a young boy who had pasted it to the front of his note book. That was all she needed, just to know that one person enjoyed it.
Today I received one of the best tweets ever. I love the idea of someone being inspired by a story I write. Sometimes I forget that people are actually reading them.
freyawrightbrough 