Slow birth of an imaginary project

I always had this vision behind my eyes of how typical adventurous thinkers in old romantic novels and movies or on paintings would appear. Because I am not a smoker, I did not light a cigarette to ever-so-slowly breathe out wisps of smoke. Instead, having finally found what I had been looking for, I poured myself a well deserved glass of red wine and started studying the map of France. Cats miaowed, cars drove past, neighbours laughed and a gentle breeze of Mediterannean night air, coming through the wide open window, caressed my cheeks...

But so far, I didn't notice any of it. To stay true to the character and enjoy playing it, I had to keep on that certain tense yet relaxed look, staring at the distant corner of the ceiling and fiddling my lip, trying to find a catchy title for my research project: something simple enough that most people will be able to understand more than the words "of" and "and"; something simple enough that I will understand myself.

Figuring out the title does not mean that I am ready with the content. It only means that my brain has finished its working hours and I am pushing on to milk it for the last drops of sense juice before it shuts down and must be recharged. Then I plug in the cable that connects me to the land of dreams, refill my head with ideas while I sleep and wait for tomorrow, to start all over again.

That is the life of an eternal student.