Either the world is turning or it is just her anemic self that caused another lifeless start of her morning. The groggy look and the heavy bags under her eyes were a dead giveaway of her day to day sleeping pattern. Insomnia pushed her mind to its deepest corners of creativity, draining her passion every work now and then- at least what's left of it. Needless to say, she loved how late-nights became nerve-wracking shifting of mind maps, jumping from one idea to another, thoroughly sifting through the possibilities of every concept her mind could ever think of.

Words usually flow as soon as she tries to write, but these days made her feel different. Her art has always been carefully presented, hoisted into the family's decadent walls for all their guests to see. The fire within her kept on roaring as she sat down on the bench, feeling satisfied watching autumn leaves reach the cold cobble ground. The urgent hunger to write resulted from a woman, kneeling down on the other side of the road- begging for a few pieces of copper. Another cause would probably be the child she bumped into a few hours ago, the way his eyes were filled with pure fear and helplessness, screaming around in search for his parents.

Imagining the contrast between the helplessness of the woman to a lost child, being smothered into a blank canvas, she sighs and crumples the leaf she apparently caught in the middle of her daydreaming.

Nothing more, nothing les