The Deluge

(editorial image from jedroot.com)



Maybe.

I wrote a post below and it felt rusty, so now I'm going to write more. I may even stop thinking so much about how it's received or whether or not I make sense, and just start writing to get some thoughts out of my head for once.

For example!

I want to write about Robert Musil's story "The Perfecting of a Love" and about the image of the house and those two paragraphs at the very beginning which I read 3 times, marvelling each time at the beauty of the image and the words.

I want to write about what it feels like to have a head stuffed full of wool, and what it's like to be frightened of losing something you never really had for certain.

I want to write about the green grass on the other side of that damned fence.

I want to write about the void that's left behind when enthusiasm vanishes. What it's like for life to go from sparkling and rich and engaging to flat and dull and sort of like a waiting room.
I read over some of my posts and sit stunned at how well I articulated those problems that are still in my head, but currently all gummed up and obscure. I also yearn for days like
this one:
And I suppose the only way to get back there is to start pushing myself forward.