And still, I feel best when:

My hair is in a dirty, messy bun, yesterday's makeup, grass between my toes and skinny jeans hugging my butt. I like when it's cold enough to wear a hoodie, but the sun warms me enough sitting in this grassy spot so I can stick it under my head. White t-shirt, v-neck. I put the book up above my head blocking the light just from my eyes... keeping the words flowing in front of my eyes and through my brain, creating while ingesting. When I get tired of holding the book up, I cock my head sideways, look at the grass or trees, all the details swimming together, loving the wind. Let me rock you. All I can think about is how good it feels. All I can think about is sunlight and words... and warmth.

This is when I write the most. When I'm alone and warm, thinking of nothing. That's when it come my way.