-This is where I talk about something. Something that comes to mind and sticks there and I want to describe so that it sticks in other peoples minds and makes them think, because that is what this is about. I want to be thinking. I want to be lit up and even alight. And I want you to leave this post with the memory of the thoughts it made you have.-
In a recent post, I said the following:
"The words that were subtle and the words that were hard to read and the words that left you wondering and all of it. They all left me hopeful. And what more could a picture book- any book- do?"
For me, hope stands above so much else. Hope in myself and others and life and fiction and everything I wish and believe to be true. I dive into fiction, into the papery worlds we so love, because I can find hope without having to conjour it up myself. I can see the things I need and the struggles to achieve them and I can feel like I, too, could triumph over those struggles. Hope and passion are very beautiful things, and I feel them when I read a book that truly hits me. Not touches. When I love a book, I love it with a fierceness and it rams itself into me with all the force it can muster. A mere touch, though delicate and beautiful, is nothing compared to the force of some of the books out there. It's still important, certainly, but it's not the same. Not for me. And to have a pile of words and paper and ink and imagination do that to me, to make my chest pound and excite me and scare me, to thrill and buoy and devastate... to bring me hope. To allow me to open it's pages and find the strength and emotions I need. Well. What more could a book do, indeed?
What could it do for you?
I want to thank, hug and offer apple pie to everyone who read, thought about and commented on the first post in this feature. Every single one of you is brilliant, and your thoughts were so amazing to read and think about. xxx