there was little for her to do. but sit and worry about the way
the rain was falling. trapped inside with nothing but books and blank canvases. the problem was she was trapped in them, in a sort of forgetful writers block. she lived and breathed inspiration. and yet nothing would come to her when brush hit acrylic.
lists posted to walls, images pinned to cork boards. and yet she looked around this closed up room that she lived in and felt trapped. it was not a space for ideas to flow. more of a creativity cage. it was time to go.
there was little for her to do. but sit and worry about the way
the rain was falling. trapped inside with nothing but books and blank canvases. the problem was she was trapped in them, in a sort of forgetful writers block. she lived and breathed inspiration. and yet nothing would come to her when brush hit acrylic.
lists posted to walls, images pinned to cork boards. and yet she looked around this closed up room that she lived in and felt trapped. it was not a space for ideas to flow. more of a creativity cage. it was time to go.
Posted 1 year ago Notes
