White space. Vast, intimidating, foreign, tintillating, perplexing yet white. What is it about white space that tingles with a pinch of anxiety? It's only white. In fact, it isn't anything, yet. Perhaps it's that white space is imbued with endless possibilities, choices, decisions? Or maybe it's the burden of making those choices, the responsibility and accountability?
The cursor impatiently taps on the white; I slurp more coffee. It's time it tells me because I'll never be more prepared than I am now. I plunge into white space with hopes that it will be a becoming, downy friend.
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