How The World Spins

The nib breaks. The lightning strikes out there. I sit on the edge of my seat, trembling in excitement. I want to write about the earth. After all, I live here. It’s been some years. I can’t say I’m enjoying myself. I can’t complain either. I heat a cup of tea, sit down before a computer, and start typing. And this is what my keyboard siphons out of me: this isn’t science fiction. It sure looks like it. The earth goes around its axis, like a latto spinning around a spindle. What do we call this spinning? Rotation. The earth also revolves around the sun.

Before long I give up on the science blog that I had in mind. I dip a biscuit in the tea. The steam swallows it in. Rain pelts the windows. I sit uncomfortably, wondering what to do with myself now that I have given up. I pick up a pen and make a to-do list. It makes me nauseous. All my days are booked. From running from one assignment to the next, from one project to the next, I am occupied. I give up on that, too.

I take my cup to the roof. I sit down on the dusty floor and look up at the sky. Am I dreaming? Am I here? Where is here? With my life turning around a routine, am I even a person anymore? A cotton-like cloud passes overhead. I say hi. She doesn’t respond. I close my eyes and imagine something that soothes me. I am no longer here. I am on a shore, walking. The sun is just rising with its first rays casting across the waves along glimmer. The breeze is in my hair. My clothes flutter. The shoreline is almost empty. I am at peace.

I wonder, where do writing blocks take us?

Someone calls my name from downstairs, and I climb out of my dream into the real world. Back to my desk, back to the blank screen with the topic about the earth nagging me to begin, to start somewhere. Anywhere.

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Fizza Saeed

Fizza Saeed

writer

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