which lead to a discussion of the interconnectedness of all things. We were down to the level of molecules. Not just any molecules, but really old particles. The ancient ones that never go away and hang out in old buildings, bookstores and libraries. Sparks flew in my brain, synapses synapsed. A plot I'd scribbled down last year emerged out of the recesses of my brain and fused with my new being, the one who looked like she was just eating a fajita, but was a year older and thousands of words wiser.
It was time to dig out that notebook and pay a visit to the character I'd left in the drawer, a sleeping beauty. The prince had arrived. The kiss had been placed.
That happened to me, too, but it was a quesadilla.
ReplyDeleteYou're right Anon. It was a quesadilla and it's sounding so good right now!
ReplyDeleteWow, Rahma! This is one awesome post. Glad things cleared up for you. Sometimes inspiration does work in strange ways.
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