The other human beings (or, why you should ignore everybody and write)
Typically, writing comes easily to me...
It's just a streaming set of thoughts that flow from my mind through my forearms and wrists, and into this weird computerised machine that collects my thoughts and makes them readable for other human beings to enjoy. It's a simple process, a random and often mystical one.
All of that comes to a halt, however, when I think about the "other human beings".
