A single phrase, or word.

It embeds itself in my memory, and I turn it over, examine it.
I let it feel itself out in my neurons, and give it a jolt when it stagnates.

The seed takes its roots, grows its vines and entangles itself with other seeds; remnants of characters, places, memories and states of emotion.

If it makes it far enough,  it peeks out of my earthen cranium, testing the air to make sure it’s safe, and then reaches its stem into existence. Its fruits are subtle yet unripe; it will make a fine story one day.

At the moment, I have only a small garden. One day I hope to nurture a forest from it.

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