To be a writer and to be unable to put words to something is unfathomable.
It’s like dying of thirst whilst being surrounded by a sea of saltwater.
It’s like being enveloped in flames only to be doused by even more gasoline.
To have a feeling that I can scarcely form a thought around, let alone polish it into a perfectly posed prose, that is profound.
It’s elusiveness makes it all the more alluring.
I’ll take the thirst.
I’ll keep the fire smoldering.