“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
― Anton Chekhov
Writing can be a dynamic means of exploring and accessing the kind of “Knowing” that trespasses our ordinary understanding of the world and ourselves.
A simple word is a sufficient incentive for a deluge of ideas and emotions… the crack admitting the shafts of hidden truths and wisdom, buried in excuses, evasions, and criticisms.
The flood could have begun with the pages protecting our secrets and boldest dreams; the letters without addressee voicing feelings that make us blush or those lending ears to our joys and grievances.
Words quicken expression and breathe in a period, a comma, exclamation or question mark; and the intricate preciousness of figurative language, once incomprehensible, and now rising in a spiral of creativity and necessity.