I am still on my own in the new apartment. Jessica doesn’t return until tomorrow. I thought: Sundays are good for writing. I had intentions. In the quiet, put words to paper, just like I’ve been longing to do for months. But instead: Watching people walk by on the street outside. Arranging my earrings on a pin board. Reading a page in a great book, not able to read two. Knitting, watching Netflix, fingers smelling of satsuma peel. Drinking cups of tea. Having to pee.
I listened to the radio, an interview with Jonathan Safran Foer, he said: Write about what excites you. That will make it easier to continue. So many stop before they’ve even properly tried.
But excitement is a fickle thing. I don’t know how to take Jonathan’s advice to heart. Today, what excites me turned out to be organizing my earrings. And the deliciousness of colors in autumn. But that doesn’t make for particularly interesting reading.
Katja Malmborg 