Today I had yet another kind of understanding. A friend used to say inspiration may come at any time.
From my recent experiences, inspiration does come at any time, and most of those times are inconvenient times. Times when I'm walking and have nothing to write on, times when I'm starving and mindlessly craving for food, times when I'm so sleepy I could fall asleep in front of my manuscript, times when I'm dreaming about something that after I woke I had no idea and times when I'm having an unbearable splitting headache.
Inspiration, untouchable, unthinkable, invisible. Why do you always come and go as you please and decide to play hide and seek when people need you?