Some days one can wake up and feel that there is a sniffling persistent rain in one’s soul, which doesn’t even leave a rainbow clad puddle. That drear grey skies weigh heavy on the heart.
Some days one can wake and feel that the wind in one’s mind is from Russian Steppes and chills the blood. That the world feels like pewter.
Some days chocolate and cake and peanut butter ice-cream are siren songs to bewitch.
On those some days one knows that writing is a pathetic time wasting dream. That one will never sell another book, who would want to read it? Why bother? Best take up bridge.
On the other hand
More days than some days, will bring a head full of sparkling clear sunshine. Song will float gently from one’s lips. A feeling of such power and laughter. And one knows the world is there for those who dare. When salad and fruit become the food of creativity.
Security of creativity can be as transient as the British weather:)