I wouldn’t call it a block. I would call it a bottleneck. It’s not having nothing to say rather having too many things to say. As my mind fights to settle on an answer it becomes numbed in the skirmish of thoughts. Firecrackers, streamers and black holes.

It is an entanglement of nylon balls, ideas endlessly linking until there is nothing but a single amorphous sensation encompassing everything I feel. Yet when you have everything you have nothing in particular.

Still, I have this notion that if I keep on analysing I will eventually come to a single theory of everything. That there is a single sentence that will explain anything. A single phrase that will henceforth guide me through this world.

All thoughts will cease as they accumulate into a beautifully simple finality.

Part of me naively believes that this is possible. If it is, I imagine it would look like staring up into space.