The long writing hiatus has left me feeling exactly how I felt before it started, so it's safe to say that it wasn't particularly worthwhile, although I would have loved to pretend that it had some profound outcome.

There are books to be read and exams to be given. There are stories to be told, and documented, not because they are special but because they could be a few years from now. There are 5 km jogs to be completed, despite twisted ankles and seemingly major excuses about everything that helps silence my conscience about sleeping through workouts. There is an ambitious year ahead to be taken on with enthusiasm and determination, so as to enable me to be in a position to stand at the end of the road with satisfaction and not guilt.

There is more writing to be done. Everyday. It's important to write, mostly for oneself. I have to sleep knowing I wrote. Some days the writing is private. Some days it's less private. It's hard to believe this when you see people around you biting and snatching things, but the competition is with oneself.