The sins of an author

Notes from the battlefield of my empty notebook.

One month without coffee on account of Ramzan.

The first cup today, this evening.

The ritual of making it, then drinking it doing nothing beyond looking out into a fresco of potted greens unlocked a gate.

Can’t stop words from spilling out now, a torrent of ideas.

Not sure if it was the coffee, the doing nothing, the potted greens, the warm golden evening or the fact I had been dying to write for a few weeks and coming up empty.

Doing nothing is underrated. So is coming up empty.

By the way the cup and the coffee tasted terrible. Wouldn’t recommend the blend or my brewing technology.

Small price to pay for the 5 pages of notes, I just made.

The things we have to do to write.