There is something about a typewriter that forces you to simply write. No delete button. no spellcheck, just an unforgiving ribbon, an endless roll of paper and well worn finger-sunk-keys. That is the only way for me. The words do not come easy via this cream coloured keyboard. I long for the thoughts to flow, I've given it 12 days. I struggle. My head's on the other side of the room, sat by my blue Imperial 200, tempting me to engage in a finger workout, (my hands look old from the cold and need blood circulatory activity). So forgive the confession, I intend to go where my heart pulls me, back to analogue. I will return when my ribbon runs dry.