A landing in Paradise.

When I don’t know what to do with myself. I write. Whatever comes to mind. That’s my fallback position. Usually, I know. Exactly what I want to do.  Go for a walk. Read a book. Play with my cat Marcello. Prepare and eat supper. Go to bed. All sorts of things. But if I’m at a loss. And can’t decide. I write. It’s a way of exercising. My imagination. I may write a letter. To myself. Or to god. To anyone.  I simply write. Put words on paper. Or on the computer screen. I may have no idea. As to subject. Maybe meaningless words come to mind. But more often than not. I find meaning. And I recognize. That I’m addicted to writing.  It’s my fix. Whenever the need arises. I write. Mainly for pleasure. Writing relaxes me. Puts me into imaginary worlds. Takes me anywhere and everywhere.  I feel boundless. A free spirit.  In flight. And it doesn’t matter. Where I land. But most likely. It will be in Paradise. --Jim Broede