Ah, yes the doldrums of writing, the point at which journals get abandoned for months at a time, the inner charge to relieve one’s inner self seemingly exhausted .

So I write this with nothing in mind, no words to add, no soulful suggestions. The Sunday late afternoon feeling pushed into my writing. Block? I don’t know. Other tasks seem to come along fine. Maybe it’s a block of introspection.

I mark this lack with these simple words, marking through my few phrases this present moment.

Ah well. Time for bed.