London : Monday 18th September 2017 17°c 15°c
Early patchy low cloud and fog dispersing. Scattered showers will develop through the morning, becoming locally heavy and thundery by afternoon, especially in the east, but also some sunny intervals. Maximum temperature 18 °C.
The metallic voice of the car read the weather to John, who did not move any facial muscle, inside his mind there was a powerful electric storm, suddenly the two front wheels hits vigorously two segments of asphalt, that they were kissing passionately, the envious plastic reacted with an annoying sound for the ears of John.
Inside the plastic bag, seated comfortably in the luxurious German sofa, there were four hundred sheets of a manuscript not bound, with the stresses it was changing its geometric shape.
The traffic on the M1 is intense, it is like to be in a jungle, there is the singing of new birds, with a unique name the car horn, but it is inappropriate because there are other melodious voices like those of trucks, ambulances and so on.
Undoubtedly the contemporary society, tends to simplify everything, even the trucks have a different voice, the Volvo's trucks are impressive, listening to them carefully you can feel, the coldness of nature, who goes straight to the its destination.
After one hour and half, John parked is blue BMW, under Sophie's window; after her graduation at the University College London, she married her work, rather than Paul, a nobleman from Manchester.
"Good morning Sophie, did you sleep well tonight?"
"It isn't your business John, do not tell lies, you want to know, I know you, you want to know, if I slept with a man or woman?"
"Well, to be honest I hoped that you slept with some women, you know I like the orgies, I want to see them live rather than on youporn."
"You are disgusting me John" said Sophie with enthusiasm.
"Oh dear Sophie we have found a point of contact, I agree with you"
The left hand of John, began to sweat by the weight of the manuscript, it was really heavy, he decided to left Sophie and suddenly he put the plastic bag on his desk.
In a few seconds, the plastic bag give a slap to the desk, strangely ordered, in a minuscule crack, opened in the plastic by the worn, the manuscript looked around, asking to itself, how is it, the desk of a publisher?
In that gloomy morning, Charles was sleeping, thinking about the destiny of his manuscript, magically he established a channel of communication with his words, written using Microsoft Words and printed by a laser printer.
The name of John Ford is written everywhere, it is in every corner of the walls, there is his degree, his Master and PhD and other residential and online courses, undoubtedly John loves the culture. The shelves are full of books on literature and creative writing, the most common title is How To... and podcast on the same theme.
These observations, started a debate on a fundamental question: Is it possible to teach the creative writing? and a person that read these books is creative or not?
John remained impressed by the Curriculum Vitae of Sophie, graduated in English Literature, at the University College London and then a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Edinburgh, she also organized, with success the literary festivals around Europe and she was the majority shareholder of a creative writing school.
John conscious of her hate for him decided to provoke her telling that the students who are studying for a creative writing school are defeated, being sure they will never been writers.
