Some call it lack of inspiration. Some call it being pure lazy. While a few others out there may dress it up with phrases best suited to them. I call it hitting one of the low points. Low to the extent that it may have been difficult to go in search of a lower rock-bottom to hit, low in the way a teenager feels after a break-up, low until … well you get the drift.
It’s ironical that no amount of motivation seems enough, when you’ve zoned yourself within the I-just-don’t-feel-up-to-it boundaries. Everything around, no matter how colourful and arty, seems as though it has halted its eternal display of inspiration. It’s when this chap decided to come out with arms and chest wide open, hibernation felt like the best-adapted-to mode. For all I knew, beneath those layers lay my favourite box of chocolates – unnoticed and untouched – waiting all this while for me to grab them!
It did take a while for it to move on … yet, about time it faded away. It’s been out there a tad too long. But now, it’s time to celebrate this liberation.
Neither a stunt nor a propaganda, a mere stated fact
With the next set of public diaries to inscribe, it feels good to be back.