Knock, knock!

Do words ever speak to you out of nowhere? Like they’re knocking on your cranium, asking you to summon them lest they vanish?

My mind has cast that spell several times in the bathroom – humid revelations I should say.

That day of switching between reading and writing had presented me bouts of words as if begging to pin them down to use. Some of these words I haven’t even used to have the muscle for recalling.

It was blackout for more than half the day. That ample of space for disconnection (should we choose it) could set up the stage for a candlelight, a travel to the times where a simple pleasure such as reading can be our warm companion. I was content with this world, hyperconnected even.

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