Thinking on words – papers and notebooks and filling them with words and words and words. That’s what I saw in the time before eye opening. “Write about it.” said the smile.
“More words on more paper.” I say into my coffee cup. Words seem a bit hidden today, maybe because I’m waiting for words from another. It’s early, I look at email waiting and hoping for affirmation of words I have written. The mail comes up and the screen critique tells me my words failed their purpose to tell a story well.
Deep breaths. Fresh coffee. There is more fresh paper and new pens await fresh words. I am not done yet with stories.