I am trying to write a short story but I don’t know how to go about it. I need a start. I try hard to think of all my experiences and filter one that will give me my first few lines. I rummage through my head but all I can see is a banner which says “all my experiences” – white characters on a black background.
I try harder. I look at the ceiling and then wonder why I did that. Was I seeking God’s help or did I do it because my neck hurts? I don’t believe in god so it must be because my neck hurts. I look up again, this time consciously and I realize my neck does hurt a little.
I realize I am too distracted to write a short story. I decide to get myself some coffee as it helps me concentrate. I come back and start reading Foucault – Politics, philosophy and culture – with utmost concentration. Hmm… nice coffee…
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2 comments:
I am glad you've humbly begun..
I'll keep trying till I reach that inevitable bed... or that street..
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