Tuesday, May 12
Everytime i return after an induced sabbatical, my fingers find themselves shackled by the half spelt words in my mind. Saying every sentence twice before typing it and tapping the backspace while nervously gauging if they are close to what i want to say. Just like meeting long lost love or an object of erstwhile familiarity, the words are drying up in my head as i look to break the silence that is now getting uneasy. It is a sort of emancipation you know, not having a post to write. Losing the urge to read. No comments in the mailbox. No RSS feeds. And most of it happening for no reason. Just a lull that turned into a season. And now i wonder who still reads this. And more importantly, who still writes. If he's getting too lost in the overcrowded train of life, jostling for some space with me.