Pen to paper, scratch, scratch, scratch. Notes written in haste, important at the time.
Now they no longer make sense. They are just scribbles.
Hands to keyboard, click, clack, click. Emails and documents and meetings on top.
Work spins forward, as does life. But so much time wasted.
Talent and creativity, thrown aside just to meet a deadline. Just deliver on time.
Forcing the workday to end is hard, there is always more to do.
But I need quiet away, a moment to create, to escape, to renew.