I need some time, and some space.
And then there’s energy. I need more energy.
You see, there are so many things that I want to do.
There are things I want to build. Beautiful things I want to give birth to and then nurture, and then release.
I have hope. I have all kinds of hope, but that hope only causes more wonderful ideas to bubble to the surface.
The bubbles come up, and then pop, and what was inside of those bubbles might float away if I don’t at least make a start.
Write it down. Write everything down until you have a big fat pulpy stack. The stack will start to yellow and decay if you don’t act-if I don’t act.
I said at the beginning that I need some space and time, but I think both are somehow the same. I don’t know how that helps.