A thick wall had etched itself into my brain.
Where a creative downpour of ideas would normally flow straight from my brain and onto the page, today, come nothing. The wall was blocking them.
Then I thought: Why do people use walls? To protect something. To stop something from escaping. To keep prisoners in a prison. To keep intruders out.
So why did it feel so wrong for nothing to escape. My thoughts are not prisoners. They do not need to be protected. They are not intruders. They want to escape.
All my life I have been writing.
But not today.
Today I have writers block.