Every child can understand the plurality of writing: it is like a domino effect. Imagine a row of these tiny little things, all gently standing, quiet and controlled, in a straight line, and along that line ramifications, connections everywhere, like branches and twigs in a huge tree: all connected, are the same individual, but they are not; Each branch lives on the same sap, feeds on the same source, and yet they have developed individually, each with a direction, a shape, an extension, like dominoes.
When thoughts materialize in text, the first piece of domino is gently knocked over. In a straight line they touch, connect and tumble down revealing in characters, plots, suspensions and novels the heart of the writer: image of the leafy trunk is formed, to give life to everything else. Another aspect then comes in play. The transformative capacity of the text is revealed in its most important complement: the reader. Behind each pair of eyes, a thinking head and a pulsating heart receive the gentle touch of the line of dominoes, nourishing themselves with the tree of words´ ink. Although developing from the same sap, each tree´s branch flourishes freely, separately and differently; as every story grows distinctively in each heart when read.
Every story is made with two ingredients: words and gaps. Words are the property of the author, and the gaps are where each reader is deposited. We cannot expect that the anguish of Romeo’s forbidden love for Juliet in Shakespeare’s novel, or the impotence and hatred of Wiston to the Great Brother in George Orwell’s dystopian novel “1984”, means the same for a passionate teenager, a nostalgic widow, an overworked family father, or a condemned young prisoner. A person understands the world through their experiences, the way they lived pains and smiles, afflictions and victories, loves and hatred. A good example, from an unknown author, shows us that even time, such a precise, scientific concept, is hostage to the gaps:
“For you to realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who has repeated the year.
For you to realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who has had her baby prematurely.
For you to realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask a weekly newspaper editor.
For you to realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.
For you to realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed an airplane.
For you to realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who has been able to avoid an accident.”
A tale is only completed when it is told, a book is only concluded when it is read.
The greatest beauty of it? Realizing that we are at all times, so naturally and imperceptibly, writing. Not with words, but with the ingredient of gaps. To live is to do poetry with kindness, to write novels with passions, to tell epopees with our victories. What book did you write today?