It surprised me when I sat down to write this, to find I had no ideas, no clue what to write. I put my pen down and looked out of the window, nothing inspiring there, only an office block with mirrored windows. The clouds seemed to move faster along those panes than they did across the pale sky, the building looked like a ship floating in a cotton wool sea. I realised my imagination was getting the better of me, so I pulled myself down from those clouds and stared hard at the blank paper.
Still nothing, so I doodled on a corner. First I drew a box, and out of the box grew a trail of ivy which ended up curled around a statue. I drew myself next to the marble woman, for scale; I drew myself as a tiny stick man to make the goddess-like statue appear huge, bigger than the lady of Liberty Island, bigger than the Colossus of Rhodes. She was a world devouring entity striding across planets as if they were stepping stones in a dark river, and she was still growing. I grabbed at the ivy and started climbing, aware that I would find no giant at the top; that I was already climbing up her very body.