Today I have no inspiration.
I'm sitting here, tapping on a laptop, next to a giant owl. It just sits there, silently ignoring me. Perhaps deliberately ignoring me. I see it as my need to write: this strange and desperate lust to make ideas, concepts, something different, something old, something new, something... anything, out of words.
But today I'm like a kid with a billion Lego bricks, wanting to build but not knowing what.
Of course I'm not really sitting next to a giant owl. That's just a figment of my imagination. Which at least proves that my imagination works.
Horrorshow about 5 years ago
Liked it :-)