The blank slate

All writers know its secrets, its blend of endless potential and painful insufficiency. Yet, every time it hits me with the same brutal beauty. In a way I do not want to have a web log. I want the words unsaid to be the all there is. And now I cannot even conjure that moment as I dragged my feet through the blue water and its infinitude of sand.

The serenity of being. With my shoes back on I asked the bartender for a scotch; “sin hielo, por favor”. IKEA glasses. Det är sent på jorden.

//

Another CFP, this time for a conference in Pavia, Italy, 16-17 September. I should give up my melancholia and put together an application. Bis gleich!