He sits at his table.

His laptop is booted up.

His note book of dreams and notes from the day before is open.

The time has arrived.

He went from his bed dreaming strange fantastical mysterious places only the mind could craft

To sitting down at his writing desk facing his instrument of craftsmanship.

He stares at the screen. It’s blank wall holds him captivated.

His timer is going. He hears his phone in the distance. He ignores and waits until he’s bored of waiting and finally puts down one word that make him relax and get to the work ahead. Two words.

FUCKING HELL!

That’s enough for today.