The pages on the calendar turn as this space sits empty. The words will not come out.
Thoughts float, ruminations advance, almost-posts appear and then fall back into the shadows. The words are there somewhere, but they lurk behind the tiredness. Right now all that exist are swirls. Snippets, at times, that come and then go again just as swiftly leaving me to wonder if they actually had anything to say.
I had a revelation the other day and I want to write it out, for in writing it out it becomes real and remembered. But for now I exist in a lull, my brain full of new job and new city, with new to-dos and new directions.
I am on the downward slope of getting used to things – some of the wonder has worn off, which is disappointing but expected, and the newness of it all is taking centre stage, commandeering the writing neurons that are used to being the star of the show.
I cannot let this space sit empty for long.
The words are there, and with this bit of prodding I hope to set them free.
Image credits: Mr. Wright, screenpunk on Flickr
