A few days ago I began to write again. Inspired by Octavia Butler, I began to paint my own future reality, complete with Africa's allure and a female of dreams.
How hard it is! I can write, but I can't see. I've lost touch with my imagination and my ability to look beyond and without. I've forgotten how to ask questions of "what if" and answer them with words and images.
Once, it came easily. It was like breathing to sit down, scrap together a few words, run the editing pen over them once and post them to deviantArt or hand them in as a completed assignment. Now, as I change and grow, I feel like the writing is slipping away, slowly,