A piece of paper or a blank screen has always been the best way to organize my thoughts. The uncorrupted whiteness is begging to be polluted by spots, lines, and dots of black. The night is setting in on my little piece of paper. There was a time when I would have sat in front of a paper and covered it entirely black, except for perhaps the smallest corner. It would have said all that I had to say. Perhaps this time, it's better if I leave the rest of it un-adultered. Maybe then these black thoughts will go away.