Process

A Creative Block

 

Stands of tobacco littered the work-space where he was going to solve a problem; Hanging from a collection of his tools, his distractions and his necessities. Brown crinkled slithers of cancer and joy. 

It wasn't a big problem or a small problem but it was a problem that needed to be solved. It was a problem that exercised its power to stop the production line.  As they all could.  

 

He was often found in this quandary and it was a productive one of considerations, jigsaw puzzles and eventual clarity and here he was again.  Different pieces, but a familiar process.

The computer had darkened to a deep sleep and the arms of a clock against a black screen moved across a blond mans chest. Free, dowloaded and now permanent. 

The smell of 7am ginger tea collided with his dormant adventurous spirit to clime the stairs and boil a fresh brew.  Too far for todays journeying.  Too distracting from the process.

 

He fell into the thought that in the 21st century, there seemed no need for the tick tick tick and occasional tock of yester-year.  No vibrations of everyday noises that filled his childhood house and indeed his student homes with order. illuminated noises that seemed to have had an awareness of day and night. Noises that reminded him of time and place and comfort and disturbance.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tock.  Nowhere to be heard anymore.

 

Tobacco

Cancer

En(joy)ment

Time

Blonde

Ginger

Adventure

A journey

Time

Sound
Missing

Home

Memory.

 

And there it was.  

 

With a scrape of the mouse across his 3 x 4 foot white desk, his computer re-ignited and the screen produced a blank page that had been hiding behind the blonde-boy-clock.

And he began to write, with clarity, a word.

Reviews

[rjgolds]

painted a clear picture of what was happening both internally and externally

[haydengt63]

Many thanks for the comment.

[rjgolds]

do you mind giving my work a read and honest critique please?