Tamara sighs as she puts her instrument down next to her. It’s beyong frustrating. Ususally she doesn’t struggle this hard in writing out a song, but this… “Well…i can’t really get the proper inspiration for it when the place it originates from no longer exsists“ +
smoke that curled toward the ceiling. “Beating your head against the problem relentlessly won’t magically provide answers. Take a break, do something else. Look elsewhere for inspiration.” Good advice… from a hypocrite who absolutely approached problems with stubborn persistence.