Pen in hand, its tip scratching across the surface of an off white sheet of paper. This is a dream being realised. Words flow. Thoughts crunch and grind to a halt, allowing the imagination to take full control. The hand directs the mind, the mind directs the hand, a mutual cycle, a symbiosis, making real a world unrealised. Some of us can only stop drowning when we let go and let ourselves get swept by the current.