A white page can be daunting, as you sit and rattle around in the vacuum of your mind.
As I'm in all this blank matter I might as well go for a wonder. After a long walk I find a large cob web all dusty and grey with a back in 5 minute sign squeaking as it rocks from side to side.
A puff of dust blows across my feet.
I turn a sharp 45 degrees, venture on and notice splotchs of paint all overlapped and wet, just slapped together in a hurry hanging in mid air. If I where to psyhco analyse it (like a blot painting) I'd say it looked like a old bruised apple fallen from the tree, red, green and wrinkled, with a very small purple weasel trying to take it home in a mini yellow tractor. Wonder what that means? I'm hungry?
I turn again and look into the dark forever nothing that lays before me in the deep dark subconscious of my mind.
Picking up a stone I throw it into the abyss. A hollow clatter re sounds in the cavernous space. It just keeps on bouncing. Tink boing babing plonk pechow tinkly swish
I turned around to find the stone behind me. The bloody thing had come full circle and hit me in the back of my head!
Serves me right. I shouldn't aimlessly wander in my own head.