Arms Open, Waiting.

Some ideas grow like bulbs beneath the soil. You check in on them from time to time, mull them over. Until finally, one day, they burst and bloom and what lies at the heart of them is clear for you to see. Ah! That’s where I was getting to!

And what of the ideas that arrive, seemingly from nowhere, without tricks or twists, just as they are. Call it lightning.

I’ve also known the kind that repeat on you for sometime before disappearing, forgotten, lost. Only to come back around, perhaps even years later. An old friend.

I look forward to them all, however they arrive. Whether or not they come to fruition or deserve any pursuing at all.

Initial ideas are perhaps more to me than any other part of a project.

Water in the desert, shelter from the storm.