I have extra time at hand these days. Time which is to be enjopyed by me, accompanied by myself. Every morning I leave home, every day one of the goals is another coffee shop. And every day I walk playing with words, and I sit down playing with words. Some days the words are playing hide and seek. I know they are there, but I am not able to find them. Other days the words come, one by one, in small groups or in hoards, presenting themselves, asking, begging to be written them down.
Today they were extra plentiful. AS soon as I opened their hiding place, they rolled out, in whispers, in songs, in laughter, in a few tears, in loud cries they found my diary, and sorted themselves into a tale, into a short story.