Oh what can I say about writing . . . .
. . . but that it is a necessary preoccupation that invades time in several different dimensions.
There are the pleasant hours flying by in real time and there is the time that passes on altogether different clocks--in other worlds, countries, galaxies, eras. This is the time of our imaginations. It travels, almost unbidden, through our minds and manifests itself in the written word.
At least this is the way it works for those of us who choose to lay bare for other eyes those convoluted intricacies conjured up in the recesses of our overactive brains!
This is not a figment of the imagination, but rather the real beach that is the source of so much inspiration of the mind.