Knock, knock!

Do words ever speak to you out of nowhere? Like they’re knocking on your cranium, asking you to summon them lest they vanish? They happen with ideas, too.

So capture them—you’ll never know if it will ever come back.

My mind has cast that spell several times in the bathroom—humid revelations I should say.

That day of switching between reading and writing had presented me bouts of words as if begging to pin them down to use. Some of these words I haven’t even used to have the muscle for recalling.

Maybe because it was blackout for more than half the day. That ample of space for disconnection set me up for a candlelight, a travel to the times where a reading is an enough companion. I was content, hyper-connected to the world.


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