Have you ever wondered if you look for inspiration in the wrong places?
Look. I am sick. The kind of sickness where my insides are on the outside. Where I ache all over, but my brain is still whizzing. Still pinging off the inside of my skull.
For some reason, my brain keeps taking me back to Rome. To back streets and piazze. To roads that seem endless, before converging with other routes to take.
I often joke that I might rent a villa by Lake Como and pen the unpennable book. But really what I should say, is that I want to walk along the Corso of the Eternal City – with a notebook and ideas. Cascading on to the pages in my hand.
The next big thing I do – which doesn’t necessarily mean life changing, or upheaval – but just requires some thought and planning. Well, maybe I should take to a backstreet of Rome and collect my thoughts.
The reality is somewhat different. Where my mind is being bent by ‘sickboredom’, photos of Rabbit Hunter’s style on Rachel Roddy’s Instagram feed and even the steps of a church, on The Talented Mr Ripley. My thoughts will be collected on an android app, as I pace the streets of Leeds – looking for some air, after a day in recline. I am not even sure we have a square to sit in where I am?
At least not one where I can drink an espresso, or cold white wine – as I press on with something I know I want to do.
My inspiration. My place to find answers. Well, that will just have to be more accessible for the time being. Like the sofa. Or the space between the bed and the bathroom.