My muse has become a fleeting, emaciated little thing in the past few months. Vaporous and free formed. I barely get a whisper as it flits through a room and then disappears like a wisp of smoke.
I really wish it were a three hundred pound guy squatting on my shoulder. Strappy wife beater tee shirt, stanky cigar stub, plumbers crack and all. Nudging me every few minutes to check on my progress.
How's your muse shaping up?
A Week of Opportunity
1 day ago