Like the roots of the earth in the hot Indian days of summer, I struggle to find refreshing inspiration for writing.
Nothing tastes good. Nothing quenches my thirst of what I consider “quality” writing. Nothing sparks, there’s no river flow of creativity.
I guess, I shall keep walking… Hoping to find that water. I desire it; I imagine it.
I can almost feel it…
It’s right at the top of my finger tips.