I was lying on the grass in Primrose Hill and wanted the inspiration to come.
I was sitting in a Nero coffee shop in Camden and wanted the inspiration to come.
I was sitting in a coffee shop having breakfast in Notting Hill, admiring the view, and the inspiration came.

What can we do when we don’t feel like writing, even though we’d really want to take a moment to do so?

I tried to write anyway, whatever came to me. A comment about the girls sitting next to me. A word written on a newspaper. I just let my imagination go…I’m not saying the result was interesting. In fact, I don’t know…I haven’t reread what I wrote in London.

I think I’ll do the same today. Just type on my computer. Words won’t make sense, but maybe I’ll find something in this mess, in this vomit. Good ideas and pure expression don’t always come from beauty after all.

In fact, when I have ideas, I’d rather type on my computer. When I know things will get messy, I prefer to write in my little notebook. It feels more organic.

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