Saturday, February 21, 2009
Shell
The words are not flowing, and neither is the music. I find myself looking for inspiration, hoping maybe that the air would deliver it to me, sadly without success. Puffs of dust float around my brain, rendering it invisible to the light. Exorcism is on call, but I fear it must be done from within.
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2 comments:
More of these will help. Come to the beach more often when I call you. Read a little... and all that yada yada..
Read Kafka.
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