Sometimes, I do not know what to write. There are so many ideas, and thoughts, joy and pain inside of me, and everything is mixed up. I get confused in the labyrinth of my own mind, and there’s no Ariadne to save me. The frustration rises up, like a storm. And then, I breathe.
I set my fingers free. Like two big spiders, my hands find their place over the keyboard. They know the business. They know it better than me. They have traveled over deserts and mountains, they have spoken about lost civilizations, and about forgotten dreams.
My mind is closed, but my fingers know how to find the keys in the keyboard by their own.
The letters fall over the paper, one by one. And, suddenly, there’s a story growing before my eyes. Characters are born and die, events happen, wars are fought, kisses are given. It’s wonderfull.
And then, a few minutes later, the story ends. My mind is still confused, but my fingers had done their job anyways. That’s when I do what I do better.
I simply let the words flow.
Like a tube.