Julian Smith was respectable but unhappy. A psychiatrist for nearly three decades he had experience on his side. He had a married daughter but they had never really been close.
‘Smith, you’re a gladiator. How do you do this day in and day out offering advice? How do you live?’ It was on Carol’s lips but she didn’t say anything.
‘Sadness, Carol, always calls for introspection. Can you find the time to write?’ Smith smiled at her.
‘I love shopping the same way I love writing. The older I get it seems that I have all the time in the world to write. In my dream my mother, she didn’t have cancer. We had a relationship.’
‘That’s good. That’s a good thing. Cherish the time that you had together.’ Smith gave a hoarse little cough.
‘So, tell me a little bit about what you are writing now. What inspires you, your imagination and creativity? Are you an aspirant novelist, poet or a short story writer?’ Carol wanted Smith to tell her that she was still young. She wanted Smith to ask her to tell him what she thought of love. She wanted to hear those bright magic words out of his mouth, ‘Are you in love or are you waiting for love?’
‘Oh, I don’t know what to say to that. I haven’t written that novel yet. When I am tired of writing poems I write stories. When I am tired of writing stories I write poems. Does that make sense, doctor?’ Carol crossed and uncrossed her feet at the ankles. Smith nodded. Carol looked away. She did not meet his gaze.
Read the whole article in Ovi Magazine, HERE!