How much of us still remains when we have read and read and read all these books. It is great to learn and adopt but it scares me when I adopt a voice, an author's voice in my thinking and in my writing. They inhabit your mind even if it is for that week, but where does the rest of the voice go?
And then you start writing hoping that you can at the least describe your experience with people and the world. You attach words to it, as far as your vocab can take you. You hope your words are important enough to be desirable or entertaining at the least (not ideal). Well it is hard to compete with entertainment, we live in a world of images. Imagination appears to be losing its charms.
I pray words stay alive and the millions of authors and budding authors who also experienced the wrecking power of a good book. Those who opened up their very selves and filled them up with someone else's thoughts and desires. Words are demanding, they desire your mind and your time. You travel to another world filled with these characters and places. You meet yourself along the way, in the paragraphs and chapters. You cry sometimes and laugh too. You laugh along with fellow word lovers.
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