Watching the world from behind this window.
I am working harder to not let my thought streams dry up. These are the moments that matter to me, the singular blips in time that I wish to hold and cherish. But what are moments but bits of life, sewn together. When I look back at the tapestry of time I've built, I'm troubled by what I see. Glorious highs get lost in the chatter of too many days without clarity.
Maybe it's that constant nagging discontent that plagues so many of us who live in creative spaces. The 'I should have done more, been more, loved more, lived more' trap that we build for ourselves, cell by cell, minute by minute.