There are days when my mind feels like the Sahara desert, empty, with nothing but millions of small ideas that will amount to nothing.
There are hours when my mind feels like a young tree. Ideas begin to grow like fruit. They are still unripe, but I am afraid that if I pick it, I’ll lose it forever.
There are seconds when my ideas flow like the Nile river, mixing together, growing to become one, but then there is a drought, and once again, my mind is the Sahara desert once again.