Sometimes it will grow as if from nothing. One moment there is nothing there, just a blank page, empty as your mind. Then there is tentative movement out on the edge of things. If you are patient, careful, quiet, the words will come, edging out across the emptiness. Nervous at first they come alone, each cautiously sniffing at the bare white page, each unsure of just where to place their letters as they step carefully out into the open.
You wait, hardly daring to breathe. You know only too well how nervous, how skittish, these delicate creatures can be, how one sudden wrong thought can send them scattering for shelter, hiding out of your reach, out of your sight until you give up and turn away from the page in despair.
However, you also know that if you give them the space to themselves, if you let them al come out into the open, then they will wander across that page with increasing confidence. Then, if you are really lucky they will begin to dance and sing while you sit there in wonder; wondering just what it is that you did this time that made them come out like that and again you wonder, wonder if it will ever happen like this for you ever again.
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