I am writing a death paper.
Not necessarily a paper about death-- it's actually about the imaginary world of the Namibian Himba tribe-- but it makes me feel like I'm dying.
Like all the vital, creative juices that make me run have leaked out of my ear and are now in a dribbly puddle under my swivel chair.
And not even this jar of Nutella has been able to retrieve them.
On that happy note back to the Namibian death paper.
2 comments:
Eat dark chocolate and drink peppermint tea. It works for me. Umm, I was just taking a break from writing my book. Yeah, there' a cup of peppermint tea in front of me. My creative juice is still there, I'm just taking a breather. Breather's are good too...
"Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming..."
Dory (probably spelled wrong) the blue fish
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