The world is at my fingertips. It’s in my head. I see it through the books I read. I see it through the images painted in my head. Images painted by words.
Plain, ordinary, extraordinary, fabulous words.
They change how I think. They change how I feel. They change how I relate to the world around me. I begin to see things differently. I begin to see things as if I were not quite a part of them, not quite an observer.
I read the first sentence.
And suddenly, without quite realizing it, I have entered another world. I’m not just there in my mind.
I smell this new world. I touch it. I take a few faltering steps, wondering if this new world will accept me. As it does, I begin to run. I skim over the terrain of this place. Effortlessly, I start to soar. I am in my element now.
The place I am from fades quickly into nothing more than a memory. Part of me wonders if it is real. Another part of me thinks of it as nothing more than just another time and place I visited once.
Here is where I am at home. I laugh. I cry. I love. I learn. Most of all, I live.
This time, this place, this world, is where I belong.
Without a warning, this wonderful world is gone.
This trip is over. And I am never the same.
