Some days the idea of writing even as much (I mean as little), as a sentence composed of a noun and a verb draws a blank. Or, to be more accurate, it is my mind that is the vast empty field in which any word bold enough to poke through meets an immediate withering end in the chill of the snows of blankness.
Had I not made the commitment to post here every day for a year, the world would have been spared a sentence like the one I just wrote in the previous paragraph. Discipline maybe good for the soul and for character, but it doesn’t always serve the arts well…. And with that, I think I’ll stop here and settle into the comforts of a long dark night to wait for the chill to thaw, maybe in tomorrow’s sun, which, when it will rise from the other side, should bring the slopes into sharp relief.