One day I will find more things to say. The words will flow, one after another, and take shape on the page, making some kind of sense, forming some kind of an opinion or maybe a statement of fact. But now ? Now I am struggling, not with the time to write things down, not with thoughts in my head, but struggling nevertheless.
Struggling, perhaps, with the pointlessness of it all. Of scribbling and creating things hardly anyone will read and even fewer will agree with. Strange, the internet has made the world a tower of babel, but the more people speak, or write, does it mean the fewer there are to listen or read ?
At the moment I will listen, read, watch, observe. And then, at the moment when it feels right, I will write.
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