Yesterday. Friday night, bank holiday upcoming on Monday. I find myself in the flat alone, writing fiercely, vomiting through words all those things that were stuck in my head and needed to take form. I could hear the echo of that music festival in the park nearby, I could hear some guys laughing and drinking in the street, I’ve asked myself, what am I doing here? why I’m not out there having fun? why do I choose to write?
The Dance
The Dance
The Dance
Yesterday. Friday night, bank holiday upcoming on Monday. I find myself in the flat alone, writing fiercely, vomiting through words all those things that were stuck in my head and needed to take form. I could hear the echo of that music festival in the park nearby, I could hear some guys laughing and drinking in the street, I’ve asked myself, what am I doing here? why I’m not out there having fun? why do I choose to write?