It's quiet here.
Like an abandoned village. Or a remote windswept paddock that nobody visits. But I don't mind. That's why I like it.
It's calm and soothing, away from the noise and distraction.
So here I shall be, clearing my thoughts. Writing some words that I might use later. Or perhaps not.
That's really not the point. It's somewhere to keep track of my thoughts, the words and ideas, that really are feeling a little smothered of late.
Too much work, too much noise. Too many other pretty things to look at.
My words feel smothered and weak. I try to get them up and moving about. Set them free.
C'mon! Let's go out words, stretch our legs, write some words I say. But my writing muscle feels feeble and weak. "No, not today" that writing muscle tells me, "let's scroll Facebook for cats instead"
"Okay! Yes let's do that!" I usually say. But it won't do. Not any more. I need to get going. Move around, play with words. I love it when my brain is full of words just wanting to get out. But now my brain is full of mush and pictures of cats. How can I write anything with a brain full of mush and stupid cat memes?
So here I will be writing to you, anybody? Trying to write a little bit more so I can get going again. I'll find those words, grow them, nurture them, and pull them into line.
Maybe I'll press the publish button. Or maybe I'll press the save button, and keep these little thoughts filed away as drafts. Like a savings account. For words I like.