What is that lust for life that a writer needs...? Is it something more prevalent in young people? I have been completely inundated with architectural beauty, foreign language, currency, surroundings, living space, and so much art, culture, food, fellowship...And my writing? It has come to a screeching halt. I think it is the lack of schedule, the lack of homeostasis. How strange! Something so organic as the creative processes (my art, crafting, etc has stopped too...even photography has slowed!) needs structure to thrive! It needs a place...
Ay, London! I am ready for school to start!
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