I plowed through the tons of letters and invoices that gathered on my desk while I was away, I’ve done the laundry, I reconnected with my workout buddies Toni, Maria, Astarti and Anna. I sniffed up Amsterdam air. I plunged into a swarm of tourists diddling around outside my house. I bought tickets for the new Chagall exhibition. I witnessed a beautiful sunset from my fourth floor window.   The good news is I haven’t forgotten how to ride my bike.   The bad news is that I seem to have forgotten how to write, as if my compass lost its north.   I’ve written one word for my new project since I’m back at my desk: ‘It’. And then it all stopped, as if someone had…