Words

"I love words. I love to read. I read anything and everything, books, magazines, newspapers, pamphlets. Anything with words I pick up and read. I am constantly scooping up free material. Doesn't matter what it is about I read it.

I love pamphlets. You find them everywhere. They inform you about places, illnesses, political parties, events. An always changing source of information to absorb. Written simply but concisely. Not for pamphlets grandious words and verbose writing. Information in it's basic form, but still words!

I love free newspapers. They are always slightly on the edge, offering something new and different. Thoughts and ideas to expand your mind, make you think and grow. Giving you glimpses into other ways of live, homosexuality, poverty, alternative spiritual beliefs. Nothing run of the mill, day to day, vanilla life like.

I love books, they contain words! I go to the library, not for me the stacks with books organized and in rigid rows. I like the carts where the books sit before going back onto the shelves, an eclectic mix waiting to be discovered. You never know what you will find. And here on the carts, I get a glimpse into other people's lives. They have taken out these books, held them, found them worthy of reading. So I pick them up and savor them too, finding whole worlds I never knew existed, being introduced to ideas that provoke thought and wonder.

I have a love/hate relationship with bookstores. I love to go and browse their shelves. Taking out books that catch my eye, feeling their covers, touching their pages, inhaling that wonderful new book smell. But there are so many that I want to adopt, take home, have balanced precariously next to my chair, so I can grab whatever catches my eye and read from that particular one's pages. And yet, oh so often, I go home empty handed unable to afford or to decide which one shall become my next adventure, my next indulgence.

When I do carry a book home to devour, whether from the library or bookstore, there is no one to share it with. No one who will read it and discuss it with me. Yes, I can tell people what I have read and sometimes they will listen. But there is no disussion, no sharing of thoughts and ideas. No wondering what the author meant or what lead to such an event or why a certain word or phrase is used. And so even with my books I am lonely, my mind filled with thoughts unable to be expressed," I whisper.

Are you listening?