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?