It’s been almost three quarters since I sat for writing. I waited. I am unable to create ripples in the still sea of creativity. For a moment, my fingers stumbled upon keys that would have written that my sea of creativity has dried. But obviously enough, I am yet to reach out to my true creativity.
Waiting and sitting without words almost sound like meditation. It is far from meditation because I am eager to jot down something. Anything about me, people around me, musings about great people, etc.
Most questions can be answered by need or should or must but no solution can be provided by it.