does age reduce creativity?
wanting to write and being able to write are completely different things now..
that wasnt the case.. words would flow.. they would capture me in the oddest of moments.. not necessarily beautiful words or thoughts to move anyone.. but words nevertheless.. they used to be my friends.. my companions in the solitude ..
now they seem to have de-friended me..
age was easiest to blame.. but maybe it is life..
maybe it is getting caught in this trauma of a daily routine..
of running madly..
not having a dream.. or being afraid to have one..
or finding them too hard to accomplish and just burying them in the sand..
now washed away by the tides..
with no time to look for new ones..
it gets easier..
the pain fades
the nicks and cuts disappear
as time flows .. the sharp edges smoothen..
but that’s just the surface, isn’t it?
All grimy cities have pretty facades..