A blank page. Blinding. They say white is not a colour, yet it lights up the screen in front of me. Not polluted by a single black line. Only a page, whiter than the snow. This blank page is often used to symbolize new beginnings, so why does it feel so threatening? Perhaps it is due to all the deadlines in the past. All the expectations that you had to fill the blank page with meaningful words, even when it seemed impossible. Writing not for the sake of writing, but for the sake of being evaluated. A blank page. A possibility to convey your inner feelings, your hopes and your opinions. But the words, they fall short. They always do. No matter how hard you try, the words do not convey what you wanted. That does not mean that it won’t mean something to others. Every great piece of literature started as a blank page. An idea. An endless will to make the words something else than just random lines on a piece of paper. A will to provoke, to engage you, to make you think. A plank page. What does it mean to you?