The magic of cinnamon tea

I'd had an idea for a new painting. I'd seen flashes of how I might want it to look. Striking, sparkling and brilliant, of course.

And so I consulted the Creative Muse.

'I'm not getting out of bed today,' it said. Granted, it was a cold and dark November day; rain-lashed and dour.

'What can I do to help get you motivated?' I asked, standing at the foot of its gold plated four-poster lair.

'Bring me biscuits!' it cried, flinging its many arms into the air. Then - 'No! Wait. Bring me opium instead. That's way more romantic. And a live jaguar.'

I decided a brisk walk might help to pull us together. And a foray into the Siberian winds outside did begin to shift the malaise. I didn't find any opium, but I brought back a box of cinnamon tea instead, and hoped that would do.

Sometimes it's hard to create. The mood is not always right. But you just have to keep picking up those pencils, or instruments or dance shoes, and having another go.

Pearl

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