After watching the white mist of a thick fog creep over my garden this morning for almost an hour, I sat for an equal amount of time and stared at my white stark computer screen.
Not that I wasn’t inspired to write things. I was just enjoying being lost in thought.
There is an art form to it if you don’t want to feel guilty afterwards. The secret is to tell yourself you were looking for inspiration. If it doesn’t show up, it is not your fault, and if it does you get rewarded.
White is nice. It opposes black. Illumination. Clarity. Good. God. Freedom. Death. Balance.
What was that in the blank looking space on this page?
A polar bear sleeping in a snow storm?
A snowflake convention?
No, just a calm space to think.
Now go get inspired and write me an epitaph. Or not, but don’t tell me you didn’t find the space to be inspired to write one.