Friday, January 02, 2009

Like Ms Woolf, I fish and the elusive idea surfaces like bubbles. It also stays with me for days like that stain which refuses to leave. But when I open this lid I stop and hesitate and don’t take those steps which will make me what I was born to be, an Author.
Perhaps it just laziness,
Perhaps my fear of failure has caught up with me at last.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

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