miércoles, 13 de marzo de 2013
I'm feeling restless. When I write, part of that restlessness evaporates. But it does just that - evaporates...it appears to disappear, it changes states, but is still very much there. I sit sipping on my drink, staring at the transparent skull that rests on my desk, illuminated by a strange yellow light. I'm pretending my body doesn't exist, that it's just the world and the little minion that sits so snugly in my brain. It's a story with no plot, no beginning and no ending. It's a story with just feelings.