May 30: A Blank

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Ideas drift in and out of my head like clouds. Often for this collection I think about what to write all day. That has been one of the unexpected results of this venture—that I am paying more attention to everything that happens around me. I look for meaning in daily occurrences where before I might have seen nothing. And every day I have a dozen ideas, but every time I try to grab one my fingers close on empty air. It's like trying to remember a dream in the moments after waking up; I feel the space it left behind, but the idea itself slips away.
And thus, I am left frustrated; the cursor blinking on a blank page. I end up going in a full circle and writing about how few ideas I have.

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