this is the moment I live for

as I shuffled through a mix of gray, stomped down snow and sparkly white flakes, staring at the dusting left on trees and iron gates,

there, bubbling, in the [surprising] stillness of my mind, a sentence formed. my body kept moving along the sidewalks, but my brain went on a mental tangent. the sentence was spat out fully formed, followed by a viscous strand of continuing sentences and the background of the subject. it has been so long I feared my writing process had changed somehow. a sense of great relief rushed through me and I stopped in my tracks, like a moose frozen by a sound in the distance.

since school has taken over the reigns of my writing style, my ability to cull the grit of my life into pearls of prose seemed to have expired, either due to the efforts of the more rigorous procedure of homework [five pages a week?! impossible!] or the complete occupation of my mind to angst.

it remains intact, an oyster still, and the last two months of rest and lack of crafting fiction have not been a waste, for the mulling and turning over of material is still going on [always going on] and to my great delight, it has produced the next thing, the next step, beginning with that sentence.

I rejoiced that I knew I had a pen, struggled with my bag to search for some scrap of paper, even a receipt would do, and wrote down the sentence. I also wrote down what was left of its trail, which was slowly dissapating, and the little of it I got will do well to give me more ideas to consider.

I continued on my walk, dragging my feet through new snow that no one had walked through yet. and I was glad.