An Elaborate Array of Hiding Places

The little toe still hurt. It has been what, three weeks? Long time to heal. There is so much that I need to do. I am torn between sitting here and typing and getting up and loading the dishwasher. Writing seems so much more pleasurable. I fancy myself a writer. I use the blog. I Tweet and Facebook. I even FaceTime and Skype. Occassionally pouring some nonesense from my brain in to the vessel of words.

The music is relaxing but not motivating for action, for contemplation and thought. The oboes and clarinets in time with the violins and cellos. He puts on his glasses to see the name on the screen Tor Aulin. Sweet and cheery the music comes across the room and dances into his middle ear.

He is looking for just the right image to place in the blogpost. The image must convey what the entire post is about with as much clarity as possible. The image must state this in one glance.