The words are there underneath, bubbling, frantic. But somehow, they do not find a way to be said or written.
Maybe because these days, I feel less of a need to tell a story, and more of a desire to weep.
I can’t write.

Last night, I read about the El Nino phenomenon on Wikipedia, yesterday. And it felt like I was reading my biography. I am those lands ravaged by storms, lashed by droughts, broken.
I can’t write.

The zeitgeist is rich with writing materials. The increasing antiquation of our currency, the fuel hikes and imminent strikes, Tiwa and Omawumi, Cattle herders and Avengers. It’s an interesting time to be alive.
I can’t write

This morning, I almost asked out my best friend’s partner. I almost risked my friendship with her, because she made the inability to write not feel like a tsunami’s waves banging on the fencing of my soul. And I wanted that feeling for a while longer. I wanted to explore how she made it happen. Deeper and deeper into her. I almost, but I still betrayed her.
I can’t write.

TO BE CONTINUED HERE>>>>>> http://dosbeat..nl/2016/10/i-can-write.html?m=1