Concentration

I’m here on the sofa with my baby strapped to my chest, sweat dribbling down my back and heat prickling my skin, jiggling about to keep Audrey asleep and frantically trying to find some thoughts worth recording. Every time I think I have something to say – when I’ve zoned in on something specific – I approach it with outstretched arms… Suddenly all my thoughts get spooked, they scatter like pigeons chased by a child, and the one I wanted disappears in the flapping of a thousand wings.

That’s a rather long-winded way of saying I can’t concentrate.

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