The Need To Put Things On Paper

It is fascinating, how things want to be said,

want to be shown,

want to come out and be expressed.

I used to want to write, when I was in Bulgaria.

It was a need, when it came, I had to, HAD to find a paper and a pen so I can put them together and whatever was in me could tumble out. Sometimes it poured, like milk in a glass, thick and shiny with pearly bubbles,

sometimes it stretched, like a piece of Turkish delight – slow and sticky, heavy and sweet.

Now, I do not write anymore. No more poems.

I..don’t know what language to use anymore. The words are like a lego pieces of different sets, colourful and sharp-edged, they create these wonderful shapes in my head, but when the others look at them, they stay rigid and awkward.

But I still have the need to do something,

It is like a cough – you cannot stop it, it’s an itch on your elbow that you have to reach and scratch,

like a long-held breath that you have to let out.

Now I sketch. I doodle.

Like a child in a rainy afternoon, sitting by the window and seeing shapes in the clouds. I don’t pretend that my doodles are any good… they just come out on the paper, because they cannot stay in me anymore.

It’s fascinating.