The notes flooded from my quill to the page.
I worked frantically.
Nothing else mattered.
My hair was a wild mess.
I probably needed a new change of clothes.
Haven’t eaten for days.
But it was all flowing out of me and if I paused, I would lose it.
Vaguely remember Rita coming back.
She tried to talk to me.
I ignored……
Didn’t care……
Composing……
The notes flooded from my quill to the page…..
*****
In the background of my own little world, sucked into the focus of my mind, I could hear a child crying out.
In pain.
In longing.
I could hear this child begging to stop, and thrashing about.
‘This is so perfect for this scene!’ I thought, jotting down some notes on my desk. I was writing a play. ‘Don Juan Triumphant’ It’ll be called. People loved this classic figure of Don Ju
