One of those Dangerous Times.

I began to recognise that this was one of those dangerous times. I was not depressed, sad, upset, afraid - nothing which had, in the past, driven me to distraction afflicted me now. Instead, I felt nothing. The sort of nothingness which writing, which creating scenes, which music, which singing notes over other notes, would not fill. The sort of nothingness that could not be filled. I looked out on that world and it was grey. I wished it would melt or disintegrate but I did not care, not trul...