COMMENT

By Genie van Paassen

I hate this time of year. August, September – it's cold, wet, and all the public holidays are way back in the rear-view mirror, or else far atop a hazy hill in the distance. Viruses linger, and cabin fever abounds.

For me at least, it's also a time of creative paralysis. I've felt stranded in a deep-bush level panic of possibilities, opportunities, and competing priorities. What's more, it's like I've got the worst caricature of a 3-year-old for company. Every turn and decision hampered by a whiny chorus of "whys?" and other needling defiance of purpose.

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