I love the sight of blank pages inviting the depths of my imagination to explode into a multitude of colors…spill into my veins and ink it’s emptiness; give it Life with words; make it Breathe; make it Feel; give it experiences and a unique character. The page beckons my hand forward, to fondle it before I pick up the pen and romance it with swift strokes that form alphabets melting into words. And that right there, is true love. Passionate and fiery. Unconsummated. Inflammable. Poisonous. Like an opiate hypnotism. Just a fragrance hits you with such strong reminiscence. It may have never occurred, what you reminisce of , but perhaps it was the thought in your mind when you were living that moment, imagining the things you could have done but did not. Fragrance has that power, like I’ve always said.
The rest of the world begins to fade away…the panorama now turning into a narrow spectrum focus…where the flames of the two devour one another. They singe whatever surrounds them. Post consummation, the afterglow would be a set of freshly pressed words, still wet from being inked onto the threads of the paper…awaiting the warmth of somebody’ vision to caress it as day breaks.
The Magic is the impact that these words create in the reader’s mind…how they tear his reality apart and scratch his conscience…drowning him inti their own world, a separate dimension. The key to unlock the Gates is nothing but the mere knowledge of those words. And the reader is now falling slowly within the void…a bottomless trench….lights spin around him as he enters this new world…cold and naked; covered by his own shame and inhibitions…coiled on the strange and alien earth of this new dimension. Like a babel.
Words follow him and surround his naked-self with a sheath of their own, bursting into sparks wherever they kiss his fair skin and forming glittering links to one another…until he is adorned with a sparkling suit of crystals.
He allows the words to make him stand up on his feet, letting the new sunshine fall upon his crystal skin and send a spectrum of colorful light in all directions.
And he felt Beauty. The words instilled this beauty in his soul. Every facet of his, glowing and embracing this new sensation…ecstatic and delirious with alien pleasure.
What writers put into the words they ink, is a piece of their soul, how they look at the world. And when the Reader greedily devours these words sitting by light and throughout the night, these words capture his imagination and transform his uniqueness so as to show him what the writer had intended to. But one’s originality in interpretation cannot be easily washed and so, a new dimension is created altogether. To each, its own. And the reader can now indulge in this new fantasy. Whatever the story may be, it transcends the reader into its dimension. And this is we romance with words, twisting them to satiate ourselves. Life is but a journey and bit of colorful imagery can only do it good. Blend with it. Let it smoke…and surround you in it’s tendrils of nothingness. Let it whisper at you things, in the dark of the night as you stare at it in amazement but hold yourself back, all the same. Let the wind rush against you as you ride with it in meandering lanes, lost but never without hope because you have begun to trust it. Let it offer you nectar that it had infused with other cognacs and let it flow to soothe you and elevate you. Allow the words to take over. But learn to leave them behind in the books because, after all, its all a mere illusion and you do not want to get caught up in your own fantasy.
Let it be a small reminder of the things that could be. And every time you smell a hint of that old smoke, you will be taken back to those memories and that moment where everything seemed perfect. Let that make you happy and energize you to what is to come, in reality.