So much profit can be made out of  a quiet day.

Profit 1

By 0730 I was already stripping down to my shorts and T-shirt at ir-Ramla tal-Mixquqa (renamed Golden Bay by the British colonizers because they found the Maltese version to be quite a tongue twister). I hadn't been doing  any sport, apart from the occasional trek, in a long while so this first jog was to be a gentle reminder to the heart that it must be prepared to start exerting itself again. Twenty minutes was the plan, twenty minutes is what I did. If truth be told though, the heart was pounding louder and harder than that made by the impact of my leaden legs on the sand.

Profit 2

My intention was to soak up some winter sunshine while listening to and rating a Hits of the 80scompilation at the Upper Barrakka Gardens in Valletta. Instead, on a bench located towards the quieter back part of the garden, I got out my Moleskine notebook and flipped through the pages. On one of them, I had a spider-gram with a few thoughts I had jotted down weeks earlier. Glancing at it, some new ideas sparked in my head, stimulating the pen to paper. Before I knew it, my watch had fast-forwarded by 3 hours and a near complete draft of my first-ever short story had spread itself across 5 pages!