Slowly, solitude comes -- like it wants to be sure we are really alone -- but I sense it, the sound of pen on paper. I suppose if I focused on the sound of each letter I'd have a new language, perhaps unnecessary but certainly of interest to me. I can hear the formation of soft turquoise letters on creamy white paper and it is its own music. Would a soundtrack of me writing inspire me to write as I sit with a blank sheet of paper? Possibly.