Imaginative Journeys

A wide expanse of limitless white. A stark, startling all encompassing white. A blinding and intimidating white. I stare down at it. Nothing comes to mind. How am I supposed to fill up this much emptiness? What is there for me to say that can fill up this gaping hole that masquerades as an A4 sheet of paper? If I even had the slightest bit of imagination or creativity it would be quite simple and painless for me to fill these pages up with words. Words that mill around busily like ants pouring out of an anthill when boiling water's been poured down it (not that I've ever tried) like in other people's work. However, I am sadly lacking in what is required here, instead of the busy ants milling around, mine would be closer to the amount of chest hair on a ten-year-old boy - wispy, insubstantial, basically, nonexistent.

English: Draft of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem K...

creativity

English: Titlepage of Kubla Khan.

I mean, I know what I'm supposed to be writing about, but really, my mind is totally blank right now. As blank as the paper I'm supposed to be writing on actually. At times like these, I suppose you could always turn to the trusty humorous yet enlightening anecdotes that one always seems to know and can rely on. Or I suppose I could come up with a witty and entertaining aphorism or maxim. But once again my brain is immovable in its' contumacy, and I'm coming up with a big, fat nothing!Maybe if I stare hard enough at the stimulus something might come to me. Something powerful, imaginative, original and capable of getting me the words I so desperately need. I know what I should do! I will describe the stimulus! Maybe that will stimulate something in me.

Let's see, first off, it's a picture. I know, I know,