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Monthly Archives: March 2014

Turn the page.

Something new is waiting for you.

Turn the page.

Text on text on text, letters assembling themselves into words and words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs.

Turn the page.

All of it lines and dots and swishes in a pattern of your language.

Turn the page.

You take in the patterns, you read, and you understand.

Turn the page.

It is your reality, your truth, your way of consuming and understanding the goings on within otherwise meaningless little symbols.

Turn the page.

Someone is telling you something with these symbols.

Turn the page.

With that page someone somewhere is conveying something to you, the reader, the watcher, the listener.

Turn the page.

They may be dead now, that writer, long dead and maybe even forgotten, but dead or alive here they are now speaking to you, conveying the message that they felt worth recording.

Turn the page.

Strokes of a pen, a pencil, the clicks of a keyboard, no matter the medium they took the time to tell you this, to pour out the letters that danced in their head, the very letters you read now.

Turn the page.

This is the contract you enter in turning the page, the contract between the writer and reader.

Turn the page.

Turn the page and you have given yourself, your listening ear your eyes your mind your time and perhaps even your emotions.

Turn the page.

Turn the page and in return they give you a glimpse into their heart, their soul, their reality.

Turn the page.

You may not see the tear stains there, blurring the words you read.

Turn the page.

You may not hear the subtle laugh, the longing sigh, the triumphant shout, but

Turn the page

And you feel them.

Turn the page

And the otherwise meaningless words start to truly mean something to you.

Turn the page

And the tear stains on the page do not have to be there, because now, they are your own.

Turn the page