the right of thoughts to randomly associate and gather together.
Neither a writer nor illustrator I orbit creativity like the bug around a night light in summer. I remember those nights in Nebraska. There were bugs at night and they loved the lights we set outdoors. Like in the north they put out bird seed not to grow birds but rather to feed them. The bugs crave warmth given by the sun, they fly close but the warmth never comes. Sometimes they get too close to the UV around a bug zapper and encounter fine wires with 20,000 volts between them. I ask you, is there any justice?