When Thoughts Don’t Come

There’s a freshly poured coffee waiting at my side. The computer screen is gazing at me. I am gazing at the keyboards, following every faultering movement of my fingers. They do not glide over the keyboard, punching out sentences, creating meaning. No, my hands are moving as slowly as my brain; a brain that is telling me to take a sip of the coffee to get things going.

Coffee sipped, I commence.

It is a fine day, made all the finer for the sun in the sky and the arrival of the end of the working week. Another week that has fallen off the calendar never to be completed again. Still, the sun tells me to look up. At least I am writing without the aid of thought.

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