We could make a never-ending list like would Novarina, these slices of life in which something essential is happening… Essential or dispensable? How can one know? How to decide whether a thing is essential or not to me? This is strange… I don’t know how to ask this question, all alone, isolated from others and from any human interaction. Essential… Alone, thinking about this word, I remain quiet. This silence questions me. The writer’s block questions me. I’m struggling with the writer’s block. I don’t want to fill the page with all the clichés that constantly seize me, I do want to probe myself and find something new and unexpected. The writer’s block is actually a chance to escape all the noise taking too much space, a chance to embrace its silence. Full of nothingness it is expecting the first words. It is like a room of people holding their breath. It is like being full of apprehension and excitement before the silence wrapping us, ready to receive what’s been missing and doesn’t exist yet, ready to open up to what’s essential to us.