Into the Forest
I’ve said before that getting “back into” a writing project is like trying to find a path in a dense forest. When I’ve had more than a single day off, it takes me a while to recover the trail. That’s where I’m at this morning. Pushing aside the brush. Seeking my way back in.
Yesterday I didn’t have much luck, but today feels more promising. I slept like a champ last night.
Brushy thoughts
We arrived at our short-term rental with backpacks full of dirty clothes, sweaty and tired. Greek taxi drivers have a notorious reputation, but ours had been exuberant and kind, using Google Translate on his phone to narrate suggestions of places to visit as he wove deftly through the dense traffic all around us. My feet felt like concrete blocks as we tromped up the stairs. The unfamiliar washing machine defeated my attempts to understand it, but Patrick figured it out eventually It had a clever little metal drum that you have to snap shut by hand before you close the outer door.
*Just one more stop*, I promised myself. One more pause, while we wait for our flight home. Everything feels more difficult at the end of a long journey. My heart is already home, and my body hasn’t caught up yet.
Our building is charming and crumbly-looking. The dusty television is all in Greek, but they have Nickelodeon, and the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers require no translation. POW! Why is that teenager talking to a sentient t-rex? How does he shoot green lightning bolts from his hands? It’s best just to roll with these things.
With home on the horizon, I’ll keep on rolling till I get there.
Today's writing music is Who Will You Believe by the Pernice Brothers.