It’s been a while. And I haven’t managed to squeeze my now-well-organized-life to get at least one drop of inspiration. Everything is perfectly aligned and polished like the window of an old craft store. I cannot look outside and you cannot really see inside. Your eye would get caught by intricate handcrafted boats and terrifying bear claws, long strips of fur and colorful beads.
Why does my life look like the window of an Eskimo craft shop? Maybe because it’s still freezing outside and I have no other merchandise to display. Or maybe because I cannot decide yet whether to move south, start a new life and drink pina coladas or live here with my old past.
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