Of Sparkles

I always wanted to write stories, and yet I always had extreme difficulty to elaborate them.
Now I still think my skills fail to meet the requirements but at least now ideas are starting to grow on their own. They are suddenly born, develop wings, find strenght to flap them twice and then wither away. I like how lately they've been finding strength to remain alive for longer. I like watching them come and go, these ephemeral moments of pure creativity. And I do let them go with no worries. I like how they refresh the place, like some summer wind bringing that scent of jasmine throughout the room.

I wouldn't like to keep storing every idea I have. I even think that's important, letting the ideas flow, unrestrained, unplanned. I that's a good exercise, as they will help the ideas to find space to develop themselves stronger every time. Also, if there's anything worthwhile, they'll have developed full-fledged wings to fly back to my window sill.

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"Mort arched his back and screamed a curse so ancient and virulent that in the strong magical field it actually took on a form, flapped its leathery wings and slunk away. A private thunderstorm crashed around the sand dunes. Mort screamed another curse, which flopped out of the air and tried to bury itself in the sand." Mort (Discworld series)