Sometimes I lay awake in the middle of the night and the sleep seems to avoid me - that's what happens to me every now and then without any specific reason. I can be stressed or troubled and still able to sleep, but sometimes I just lay awake, still - and listening. That's when they come. It can be a single idea, one sentence, a silly thought and often it may be gone as soon as it appeared. Sometimes that little piece refuses to leave and parks itself inside my head and it starts collecting other - sometimes totally irrelevant - details and around itself. It can be the beginning of a story, it can be the end of a story, it can be something in-between. Finally, it may become out as a story. Or I like to think that the story was already there and all that was needed was a silent night and an open ear.