On some other plane of reality, sitting in the shade on the front porch in my pajamas, smoking a cigarette, feeling the June breeze and occasional gust of wind, I pick up my phone and open a new screen. Then I click the button to lock the phone. A black and useless screen flashes before me as I slide the phone between the side of the chair and me. Nestled, waiting, whispering…write. I pick up the phone and unlock it. Feel the breeze. Lock it back and put it down. Sit quietly awhile and be.
The urge is stronger than my will. I pick up the phone again and open a new screen.
But nothing comes.
I used to be able to enjoy these quiet moments. But my mind is fixated. My insides stir, restlessly.