Q is for Quiescent
That's when the day starts looking like it’s filled with molasses. Mental movement gets slower and slower. And that’s when I know.
I know I need time like the bears or badgers. A time for a dormant indulgence.
A time for languorous slowing down.
It’s a feeling that creeps up on me, true to its nature. A slow languorous crawl into my brain when it was running like chicken being chased around.
I've noticed that ideas don’t just walk in the door of a noisy party. It waits for an indolent time, then floats in, sometimes not even waiting to knock. It’s in the quiescent feelings that the best moments of life reside.