I read some beautiful pieces sometimes, and I mean it when I say they are beautiful. Scribbled words can mean so much. They can help someone feel better because they just vented out a whole lot of exhaustion and pain. They can serve as evidence, proof or memories, all at the same time. They have the power to change. To change the world, even. They can take people to places. Or help the miser escape. They can teach life lessons and help you feel connected in a moment, when bonding with the outside world can be such a Sisyphean task. They are a whole different world, quiet and mesmerizing. And they can touch down, deep within. They can tell you about a person, who can barely talk about himself. They can scar and blind, and give living things a life.
You can tell who a person is from what he writes, but not so much from what he says.
