Today’s read pages 103-107, divider/chapter/section “What Writing Is”
…yeah I know it’s less than my 10 pages a day but, yes I said but, it’s one to chew on.
I write this evening in a corner of a bedroom just after dusk in San Diego California. Looking out the window I catch a glimpse of the lights of the downtown skyline around the San Diego bay. Across the bay I can see Coronado island which divides San Diego bay from the mighty Pacific Ocean. Light dances off the water as my eyes linger enjoying the view. A cool breeze lifts the sea air off the water, through my window screen and to the sensory receptors of my nostrils. A ship’s horn interrupts the silence.
Can you see it? Feel it? Smell it? Hear it?
You might be reading this from some other San Diego location the moment I publish it or from a small town in Germany 3 years later. My writing brought us together for an experience we just shared. We weren’t ever in the same room at the same time sharing the same experience, yet we shared it. Writing did that. What other proof might one need to prove the existence of telepathy?
Writing is not to be taken lightly.