Beautiful expression of the feelings we all have today.
Its a morning like every other morning and also unlike every other. I am writing, of course, as usual. A cool sea breezes blows, stirring the chimes. A tailor bird sings in the almond tree.
I am writing a novel, and far removed from this day. I am deep in another world, feeling my character’s emotions, seeing her sights. Her world is breaking down and I am making it worse to deepen the story. I will strip her down to her bare essentials and watch her struggle to survive.
She thinks she might not survive but I know she will, because I have already written the ending.
Then, I take a break. I come back,withdrawing from that full immersion. I expect to come back to a room full of books and makea cup of coffee before going back to her struggles.
But.
Now its me, not her. What happened? Is…
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