And so I couldn't write...

I was half way on my reading Shutter Island when this urge to just write something came. I don't know how, don't know what but I just felt that I have to close the book and start pounding on the keyboard of my netbook. So I did. I haven't done so in ages. For whatever reason, I just don't. Perhaps I lost track of my creative streak. Perhaps I lack inspiration or desperation for that matter. I am just rambling. So be it. I might stumble into something that I could write on.

But I couldn't. I just couldn't. And it scares the hell out of me. Am I losing it?

A nice conversation on death

...from the novel The Hummingbird's Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea

Huila: Will I die now?
Teresita: Yes.
Huila: I don't want to die.
Teresita: I know.
Huila: Does it hurt?
Teresita: No.
Huila: Will I be afraid?
Teresita: Oh no.
Teresita: Do you know how it is when a child needs to go to sleep? How a child fights and bargains. Asks for a story, or cries, or suddenly needs water to drink because she won't go to sleep?
Huila: Yes.
Teresita: But you know it is time. For whatever reason - it is time for the child to sleep. It's late, or she needs to get up early in the morning, or she is ill. You have to make her go to sleep, sometimes against her will.
Huila: Yes.
Teresita: This is how it is with God and us. God has to put us to bed, and we don't want to sleep yet.
Huila: Will I like being dead?
Teresita: Did you enjoy being alive?
Huila: Yes.
Teresita: Then, you will enjoy your death. I wish you could stay. I will miss you.