All he ever wanted to do was write.
His work in the city was always busy. Although he would be seen by others as successful, deep down he knew that a great void was opening and growing larger as time went by. There was never time to sit and write; write for himself. In fact, so many of his evenings were taken up with work brought home from the office. There seemed to be a constant manilla folder or two in his case when he got home. He was responsible for several of the company’s client accounts and there was never enough time to keep up with them during the day.
The realisation grew that if he wanted to change the way he lived, he was the only one that could make it happen.
Finally, after months of planning, he prepared himself for what was to come. His bank account was extremely healthy and he had no qualms about resigning from his professional role. He sold his car and bought a campervan. The national park, with its vast forest and its river that flowed through it from end to end was only a twenty-minute drive from his apartment. No more bus and train in, train and bus out. He would enter the park and choose one of the quiet spots along the water’s edge. There, with a fully charged laptop and a head full of things he had always wanted to write about, he began his new life.
Whether or not he could sell anything that he produced was of little concern as the new world opened up for him.
Now, in the silence of the forest, he has found his voice.