The only time I feel like writing something is in full company where there is something interesting being said and I have no notebook.
Seven empty paper cups of tea testify to a long night of unwritten conversation, and fially, a worthwhile pen to write with turns up and the will to write comes back.
I am in the middle of a huge block, the inability to do anything, put anything on paper. Not work not info gathering, not thoughts, not what I've seen, heard,....
I don't even have a way of making this post look interesting.
There are these magical old papers from long done assignments that had a lot of love invested in them, which I tore up to write on today.
And with a flutter of wings, the angel returns.
And i decide it is absolutely annoying to try and edit a post and make it more readable, so i let it go, and move on.
Seven empty paper cups of tea testify to a long night of unwritten conversation, and fially, a worthwhile pen to write with turns up and the will to write comes back.
I am in the middle of a huge block, the inability to do anything, put anything on paper. Not work not info gathering, not thoughts, not what I've seen, heard,....
I don't even have a way of making this post look interesting.
There are these magical old papers from long done assignments that had a lot of love invested in them, which I tore up to write on today.
And with a flutter of wings, the angel returns.
And i decide it is absolutely annoying to try and edit a post and make it more readable, so i let it go, and move on.
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