Words can be so frustrating sometimes. When I’m in the tram, walking on the street, or just lying in bed, they appear spontaneously in my mind without much effort. They intermingle, they play and work together inside my head and they are able create the most beautiful images and the most fantastic worlds. It’s almost like magic, and in my imagination I have just crafted another award-winning piece which will stand the test of time as a classic. I even start to daydream about me giving an interview to some admiring journalist, trying to explain the genius of my work (hey, I am a dreamer after all). Now all I need to do is to remember those words and write them down and capture them on paper. But then I sit down behind my desk and open my notebook, and I try to recreate the images in my head, and… nothing. Oh, the words come out, but they just sit there, side by side, doing nothing. I’m pretty sure these are the same words, but the intermingling, the exuberance, the magic… they have all vanished. What I am left with instead is a piece of crap that is dull, boring, even lifeless. I desperately ransack my mind, trying to find out what I am missing, maybe lost somewhere in the deep recesses of my imagination, but no… I just don’t know. It’s just gone.