Starry, Starry Night

van gogh's stary night painting

(Nottingham-famous, Tom Jepson, has laid out a challenge to create content, daily, for the month of December. This is day six. #Dec19ContentChallenge )

Welcome back.

This is the 6th day you might be reading some words I put together for you. Don’t worry if you haven’t, I would take no offend if you missed all of them. I write these out of the selfish desire to practice my writing muscle amidst, especially, this final year lifestyle. At least, it’s Friday night (well, technically Saturday morning as its past 12AM). Even on a regular Friday before I had committed to the daily writing, I often spend some time before I fall asleep on writing whatever comes to mind. So, this feels completely usual. I’m not fretting much about what interesting topic this post will pretend to wrap around; my inner self-critic is relaxing tonight.

There’s Vincent playing in my ears for the 27th time as I run through the catalogue of stuff you’d be interested to know. I write this sentence a good 10 minutes after the previous one; the kind of sleep that makes blinking a chore has returned in the air, and I’m forcing myself to remain awake. I tried to write a poem this morning after weeks, as Vincent was only in its 12th repeat, but it didn’t reach too far. You ever relate to that feeling of recognising the beauty in someone else’s words — that happens to be so genuine and raw — it makes you choose silence, out of respect for such more-than-beauty?

My poem this morning was touched by the state of a heart that is dreamy. It promised to revisit another day when I wasn’t bewitched sketching trees or swirling clouds. Thus, regrettably, you, too, will have to wait until tomorrow for something less opaque.


Until next time.


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