try as i may, there are times (and photographs) that just don’t connect with me when i think they should.
a week ago this past sunday, i photographed a pot of cyclamen, downloaded the images and uploaded them to a draft blog post, thinking they would be a fitting close to my ‘week of cymbidiums’, a period (or exclamation point) of sorts.
but that didn’t happen. i got sidetracked by _______ and then when saturday did arrive, i wasn’t inspired by these images, pretty though they may be. (sometimes ‘pretty’ just isn’t what it needs to be, you know, a muse.)
so there this unfinished post sat, ‘my drafts’ a holding bin of other drafts (oh yes, you have no idea what i’ve begun and not completed…which is not unlike life, isn’t it? oh yours, too?)
[do you see the difference between the photo above and the one above it?]
but regardless of the subtleties, there just seemed to be nothing about the idea of this post that i found appealing.
but today, today, it came to me. i could write about not writing. (everyone has their excuses, what are yours?)