Through the tunnel
thoughts rush along, to one point of illumination which reveals a perfect thought, phrase, opening sentence, chapter heading or even, as once happened, a perfect paragraph - seen in clarity - such clarity that you could never imagine losing it.
Fail to catch it there and then, however, and it disappears like smoke.
On other days, the thought tunnel is clogged, fogged, duvet-filled and impossible to work through. Instead I begin to think about dinner preparations, whether I left the iron on, or what members of the family are doing.Thoughts drift...
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