Cookie crumbs litter my shirt. The ideas are coming ... slowly. Where all this will end is beyond me. Sometimes I write with purpose and direction, ideas juxtaposed in my head. There is a picture, a story, an idea. So far I'm blank. No pictures, no story, no maps. Jumbled thoughts pop in and out of my head like passing towns on the highway. Flying by so quickly, nothing ever develops. The lives, the people, the stories escape knowing. Exploration requires cohesive thought. My thoughts left me at that last town. Alone, without a map, I move forward.