It's not that I lost the will to write.. I just lost the time.. Today, like so many days before, I suddenly (like so many times before) realized that time is passing by. That everything moves forward, even your own-self, what remains behind are the things you wanted to do, the things you've done wrong, and the things you wish to do again. This is what the past is, a reflection of what you want to do and what you need to do, and what you don't need to do again. And you're lucky when you get stroke, repetitively, with this bits of a second when you see your past flying in front of your eyes. It's just like seeing your future, or at least what you should do about it.
So as I had this slight moment of enlightenment I realized that I should come back here, right to where I belong, where I breathe. The place where nonsense makes sense. Maybe the world is also a better place for that. But here, my nonsense is meaningful, to me at least. And you don't need anything else than a cup of coffee, a good blanket (or maybe that remote to turn off the fucking AC - and yeah yeah yeah, pardon my french) and your pen (as it's more poetic than a keyboard). The world at the tip of your words, and the universe all open for you.
I might as well make a use of this time I have to spend in this city I don't like very much. It might be the right place and the right time to learn a bit more about freedom. You see, the best place to see light is when you're in the dark!