I can hear the rain dripping down the side of the house, splashing against the rough of the rocks just outside my office door, the one that joins me to the outside.
The gentle hum of cars and streaks of light dancing across my wooden table on the floor soothes me. I close my eyes (yes, while I type!) to try and soak it in just a little bit more. My mind is working against the grain, weaving through knots and unexpected curves, struggling to grip at the sense of clam that I am so desperately trying to usher in. It’s been difficult you see, to take the pressure off. To tell myself that it’s ok to dive into the pile of books that sits next to me on my futon - the pens and notebooks calling my name.
My hands shake...Read More