September 2016

Strange – how we discount sound in stories. No one engages with tiny black marks on a white leaf of paper. We long to glide into a world we experience – hear the crackle of the glass, the rhythm of a fetal heartbeat, the blare of a taxi horn, the rustle of scarlet silk. Seduced by the power and poetry of language, we hunger for the jolt of odd juxtapositions, to find out what happens next. But without musicality and metaphor you might as well devour a manual on how to change a tire. Words perform the magic of a wand, the precision of a scalpel, the viscosity of paint. You can hear the tinkle of the chimes, the roll of the rhymes, the chill of the drill. Without children’s laughter and sirens in the night, the warning of the wind and the click of a lock, we simply ingest facts. Read More »