I’ve been trying to pierce the Netbook screen with my blank stares, but not even a germ of ideas springs from my brain.  The rain pours hard on the roof. Intermittent lightning and thunder flashes and roars, slightly deafening the streets, or perhaps the room we occupy in the male dormitory.  I have enough for the day, I think, and all I really need is a good night sleep. But even sleep  refuses to take hold of me. And again, I hate the thought that I would be sleeping at two or three o’clock in the morning.  Good thing, the lightning prohibits me to turn on the WLAN button.  It’s dangerous to use the internet when the lightning tries to penetrate on the jalousies, especially when the connection is active.  I could imagine if the lightning catches the gadget and it suddenly explodes.  Possible, I’m not really sure.  Will it set the whole dormitory on fire?  I don’t think so.  Water is stronger than fire, and even if the latter smoulders the walls and doors with heat, the former will just wash away the ember on the surface.

When it rains, I wish my thoughts become flooded with streams that meander through the crevices of my dreams and imaginations.  Only then that I begin to write.  No Muses.  That even though I stare blankly at the computer screen, I follow the course right down the bend.  I fall.  I fall from that bend and drown myself in the returning passion of writing.



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