This is when you want to write something marvellous.

As a tribute. A legend. A story.

Something you can show to the world, and point to the person who inspired it, and say, “This is how he changed the world. This is the change he wrought.”

Kneeling at the table, pen in hand, dripping with sweat and the remnants of the scented bath you have just left, betrayed by the very physicality of the pen in your hand on the paper. Bathed in a white towel that ends halfway down your thighs, curved and imperfect as the word you have just struck out.

Salt on your tongue.

Skin clammy with evaporation.

Head wild on the moors with things you can’t understand. Things you try to understand. Things that you will always in this moment understand.

This is when you will write to change the world.