As soon as I sit down to write, whatever might be worth saying wriggles away from me like mercury set loose in a dish.  Peripheral vision relaxes into words shyly; nothing kills the mood like staring straight at it.  Which is  funny, because in a way the same thing happens with pictures.  I see the thing before I see it, but then the imaginary vision has to agree to come out of the shadows and be found.

You know what I am talking about, don’t you?