It's like a disease that shuts down all systems.
Ahh. How I dread you so, Writer's Block.
Sitting at the computer, keyboard within reach, I stare blankly at the illuminated screen, clueless.
My brain is buzzing with the awkward reverberating silence that accompanies desolated vicinities.
Nothing. Just a vast expanse of deserted land with tufts of grass and a rusty swing set whose rickety swing looms eerily to and fro, creaking in the breeze.
No imagination. No words. Nothing.
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