Is this what it’s like?
The mind of a writer?
So...it never shuts up?
What does one do when there is so much one wishes to say...but no audience to say it to?
Is the mere act of disposing the information into written word an adequate antidote for the consistent thoughts and ideas that ruminate in the mind each and every day?
It seems silly to say, especially in this unnatural period, that there is not enough time.
And that quite like anything — like an uncanny devotion to completing a task or esteemed perseverance in constructing a vision — we eventually make time for what matters...or for what seemingly drives us insane.
More often than not, they are the same thing.
