Quote for the day

Words – so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. 

~Nathaniel Hawthorne

Writing Prompt: Therapy

I rush out of the building, away from the air-conditioned halls, the never-ending chatter of the phone lines and the multiplying emails of my in-box. Outside, there is more noise. Suits brush past me and I’m sure such exposure to mobile phones will shorten the length of my time here on earth. Everywhere there is a layer of smog, thick hot air; desperation. Within moments, I wish I had left my jacket on my chair and was wearing a little less. I dream of standing under a cool shower with my eyes closed. This is London at 12pm on an average summer day. Fleet Street is crowded and I consider running to St. Paul’s to sit on the cool stone steps, but there is a lorry load of tourists bustling about with their Baedeker’s and the prospect of running into one of my countrymen and explaining my presence there is too much to bear.

I look up, and there it is. I rush forward and head for the door. Once inside, I breath it all in. Walking between the aisles, running my hand along the spines of the paperbacks, I can smell coffee coming from the café upstairs. At once, I begin to relax. My shoulders drop and the voices in my head are a little quieter. It’s all here, the treasure chest of experience and knowledge at my fingertips. Each volume is a hand held out to the reader. Each book is an insight into the human being that created it. I’m not alone in the universe after all since each line is a thought expressed and a desire to share something with the rest of the world. I fill my arms with poetry. A bit of war history to remind myself of what we’re capable. I dream in Technicolor so a film book makes its way onto the stack, I need to see what films have been missed, required viewing before I die as the title implies.

I make my way to the exit. The streets, buzzing with humanity are a minor concern. There is something in my bag to sustain me until I go through the doors again.

Writing Prompt: Therapy

The quickest, surest way to make me feel human when it all gets to be a bit much is to drop me into the middle of a book shop for a few hours. We all have that one thing that calms us down. What’s yours?

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