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This frustration when resources fail,

This fatigue over ink on paper, dot on screen, bed-hour calling but "two paragraphs left to the end of the chapter",

This occasional doubt of "never gonna get half as good with this as I could hope to be with English",

This faint, faint confidence that in the exact same way, I just might,

This endearing despair of "It's tough enough without this guy inventing his own words!",

This blithe knowledge that soon as I get there, I would so do the same,

This back-breaking haul, rare in these days of comfort,

This road, assuring in its lack of end-in-sight,

This tower to climb,

This promise of pain,

This thrill of hit-and-miss,


I'm loving it. ❤