One page at a time

I love books the titles the binding of old books the heavy tomes of my childhood that were stacked in the libraries of my grandparents home the possibilities that waited within each book..their mystery and I was allowed to choose whatever I wanted..if a child was reading it was considered to be sacred an act never disturbed

I loved the old libraries with the wooden shelves and special ladders the serious atmosphere ( but welcoming also) as along as I was quiet I was free to wander until I found the largest book possible and I would wrestle it to my spot and begin to read whether I understood what I was reading ( which I discovered later when I reread these books)

As a result I love words and language ..the way they string together when placed together perfectly they appear as fine as a gold spun bracelet and shine brighter when they are chosen to speak the truth

I have never had the itch to write a book but I enjoy pinning together short stories/ essays/ scraps of prose, I enjoy crossword puzzles and feel so pleased when all the words fit together perfectly, I love to discover the meanings of words and how various languages travel across the world and cultures and land in our bowls of soup …the flowers on our tables the music we hear the clothing we wear , we are all interwoven together by different threads of language ……and the more colorful for it