And though the professional jargon didn't desert him - it's second nature - his prose accumulated awkwardly. Individual words brought to mind unwieldy objects - bicycles, deckchairs, coat hangers - strewn across his path. He composed a sentence in his head, then lost it on the page, or typed himself into a grammatical cul-de-sac and had to sweat his way out.
Not only is this sentence wonderfully evocative, it captures how I feel on a bad thesis writing day. Sometimes it flows, other times it's an uphill battle. Just got to push through the pain!!