Scattered Wor(l)ds (An Original Poetic Prose)

Every time I sit down to write, it comes to my mind the urge to leave everything blank. Maybe it's a stubbornness of mine or a chronic problem, but I stand in front of the blank sheet, trying to figure out what to do. Ah, yes, write! Yes, I run back to the world I live in and start thinking about words because the idea I already have.

I write the first words. I continue a little more, two more lines. The phone rings. Hello? I do not hear an answer. Probably one more call from these phone companies that makes us hate to answer the phone. I went back to the blank sheets, to the words that were determined not come out. I noticed that the room was very clear. The late afternoon sun burst through the window and made me wonder what it would be like outside at that very moment. Streets full of life, vibrant steps of people striving to be seen, faded and old cars everywhere. No, better stay here. Once again, I returned to my world and focused on writing. I thought for a moment, another line came out.

The doorbell rang. I answered it. It was the condominium manager and he wanted to talk about the rise of the condominium monthly fee. I listened to that monotonous conversation, and at last, I closed the door. Again, in front of the paper, I came across the fear of losing the story. What was the idea? Oh, yes, I remembered. I began to type a few more words, but I was interrupted by the ringing of my cell phone.

I did not answer it and gave up writing. I laid down frustrated. Maybe in my dreams, there are no telephone, people, condominium managers or cell phones. Or at least I can find my lost words.

Sony E2363, ISO-1184, 1/15 sec, f2, no flash