Several months ago, writing basically fell to the ground and broke into a thousand pieces. Shatter. Oops. Did I break it? I think I did. The shards of my writing block filled me with self-doubts and caused a customary identity crisis: I have a blog, don't I? But what is my blog about, again? I broke writing. It took me a while to realise that I was stuck inside a comfort zone, a cosy place both in my mind and on my sofa, where I wouldn't have to face the real world. I wouldn't have to face th...
