Here's a little something about me, I have been a story teller all along. I often find myself killing time by making stories in my head and hoping that someday by some stroke of luck I end up writing the screen play for a movie.
Now anyone who loves telling stories seeks inspiration. That's why I miss Karachi so much. Karachi was my muse. I was involved with that city, the environment, the history, the people, the buildings the streets, everything that constituted the city helped me spin a story in my head.
Ever since I left Karachi I had sort of run out of inspiration, I played around with old stories, toying with the characters, with the context, with the plot, but nothing that that stood out to me as a unique work of my imagination. That changed today. On my way home from work, as I stepped of the 42 Bus to Cummer East, there was a moment. In the mild blizzard, with the yellow hand flashing to us pedestrian suggesting that we do not cross the street, and the purple glow that lights up the Toronto night sky as light from sodium lamps is reflected of off the fresh snow, there was a jolt of inspiration. My imagination was rekindled, I had a smile on my face and an idea in my head that kept spinning and spinning, other ideas came and went a plot was born.
For once I enjoyed walking while it was snowing, for once I was in no hurry to avoid wind chill, for once I didn't feel like making a dash for my apartment building before I freeze out in the cold.
Its taken me a year and a half but finally I have found it again, my mojo of sorts.
I guess thats the best way to get inspired, enjoy where are you not where you want to be.