Wanderlust

Stifled inspiration and wanderlust have all but obliterated any coherent thought over the last few days. It all began with the most un-notable of moments.

I had just about finished my lunch break. I put the book I was reading down (Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre) and took a moment to watch the way the sunlight crept into the canteen; which was empty but for me, and etched patterns into the surface of the metal tables that shifted as the clouds past in front of the sun.

Out of nowhere I was overcome with an urge to write, I don’t recall having anything particular in mind, just that I had to write something; anything. I felt as though I could turn my mind to any of the projects I have ongoing, and finish them in no time at all. Unfortunately I was right in the middle of a working day, and could not exactly go back to my desk and starting working on a short story or novella; something tells me that I may have had questions asked of my performance.

I was able to subdue the urge, but that only succeeded in triggering a desire to start drawing. Then, as the sun swam into the office and I could feel the warm air through the open windows, my mind packed up and ran away in to memories of places I have passed through.

I floated away in a daydream, outstretched on the top deck of a floating diner; ambling along the Danube soaking up the sights and the sun. Then I was transported to Rome, where I looked down on the city from the ramparts of the Castel Sant’Angelo; with Verschaffelt’s Angel looking down on me. I was reminded of the time I spent in the Carmargue Region, Arles, Port-Carmargue, Aigue-Mortes, watching the flamingos from a hillside; sketching away contently. Or sat in the walled city, watching the people pass by whilst my friends discussed our next destination. Before finally finding myself in Saint Helene and Nice, cuddling up under a palm tree as a storm flashed up out of nowhere, as locals and travellers alike fled for cover around us.

Oh sweet memories. They only fuel my desire to embark on more adventures!

I find it a little strange, how the arrival of some really nice weather has led to me wanting to leave these shores as soon as possible. I think holidays will be booked this weekend, lucky I’m working some overtime at the office to pay for them!

Conversely, now I am home; and in a position to write, I find myself struggling to work on anything other than this entry. Damned inspiration, why does it persist in striking me down in the moment I cannot act upon it?

My muse obviously takes pleasure in my pain. The Bitch.