I buy paper.
To write on.
Reams of emptiness waiting to be filled.
They say nature abhors a vacuum.
Virgin white vacuum yearning to be defaced by black, red, blue.
And a hand... clicks a pen.. On.. Off... On... Off.
Waiting for words to come.
How ironic is it that I'm writing about my inability to write?
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- Taruna
- Reading, Berkshire, United Kingdom
- I write about the thoughts in my head.
2 comments:
you wrote.
nice.
I had zactly the same feeling...though on Ms Word...sometimes I feel too much brevity isnt good for health! Hehe...
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