Perhaps I was experiencing some sort of writer's block. Or maybe I have just gotten a tad too concerned about my well-being that I haven't been thinking straight, that I have somehow restrained the natural flow of creative juices in my not-so-juicy brain.
I remember thinking that I cannot possibly document every single thought that enters my skull or every single idea that develops in the innermost part of my cranium.
Looking back, there was the ballet I so enjoyed at the Opea House. It was an experience I could have put into words but now have upscaled itself to a more profound and a more abstract thought that I wouldn't even know which adjectives will give it justice.
And then some of the unsaid lies in the boundaries of what should and should not be exposed, taking into consideration could-be taboos to most societies, universally speaking, such as politics, heavy religion and I guess you know what I'm really saying here.
LIfe at the moment borders between the good and the bad. Of course there's also that bit about being mediocre. Where does every other person want to go? It's really a matter of going out there and doing something. Who's willing, though?
Meeting of the minds have successfully taken place. Without warning, I might add. It was well and good and productive, I daresay. Perhaps going through all this with the most credible people in the world is like going through those dark forests with the people you so turst, it just doesn't matter. It's not so scary after all. I guess what I'm saying is I am a bit scared but I feel like braving the storm trying our hands in producing something we all love, we all want to do, where the world isn't really giving us a chance. Just because they do not know us.
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