To be fair, it was a city break to New York, so not the most conducive for reflection and writing. I thought I might be inspired by the place and the pace and the excitement of it all, but it didn't happen.
Take last Thursday. Sipping on a glass of wine, looking out over the people rushing past through Grand Central Station. With the beautiful ceiling, and the US flag hanging obtrusively, as if you could forget where you were. This is the kind of scene you should feel inspired by, isn't it? No. Not me anyhow. These were my musings - not written down, and you'll see why in a moment.
Look at all those people.
They must have, like, so many stories.
This is like... a metaphor for something.
The American Dream?
Is everything in America a metaphor for the American dream?
I wonder how much I should tip the waitress.
So it turns out I'm probably not writing some amazing scene set in Grand Central Station. Ah well.