They come crashing into my mind at the strangest of times. A solitary pair, a phrase, a sentence. Often complete in themselves but crying out for a backstory. They excite me, these words. They fill me with a longing to spend days at a battered old desk overlooking the sea, filling in the gaps with more words. The warmest, fluffiest socks, copious amounts of coffee and ink scratching onto paper as the waves beat and crash against the shore. But these words also fill me with an ineffable sadness. I never have, never had the confidence. Never believed in myself enough to even try to make something more out of them. And so they are left to rattle about in my mind, like someone’s lost property, unforgotten and never quite finding the ending to their story.
