You breathe in the dense, rich smell of the rain as it lightly patters your umbrella. Rain drips off the dark ivy that has engulfed the old brick buildings. Shallow puddles reflect the soft, warm glow of the lights in the bookstores. You walk along the narrow streets, the bitter yet welcoming smell of coffee draws you into a small, homely cafe. You run your hands over the old books until you find one, the pages browned and the cover worn with years gone by. You curl up on an armchair, gently sipping the warm coffee as you look out at the dark sky, rain slowly sliding down the large window at the front of the shop. You close your eyes and let the warm, placid feeling of contentment spread throughout your body. This is the wonderful place where all writers reside, writer's block.
Not one of my best pieces, (it was really hard to evoke the feel I wnted) but, I thought the play on words was interesting... let me know how I can improve, or what you think! ;)