Reading By the Window: a Glimpse Into the Story

The pages open like leaves fluttering in a stiff summer breeze that reaches through the window, carrying whispers and echoes from lands far and away. Beckoning restless hands to turn the pages. A breeze caresses the face with a delicate touch, like a hand tracing the rough, grainy words on a page, forever altering the contours of oneself. The flip-flap of pages in silent moments between a held breath and whisper of words like tiny wings of a hummingbird, carrying you on endless adventures. Shadow of the sun creeps by while words gleam in passing moonlight. As dews gather light on a ripening orange glimpsed through the window. The moment ripens while dewdrops trace a winding, halting trail along the pitted mien of the fruit as the eyes flit over the words, trying to prolong the inevitable, enticing you to savor the bittersweet moment this long-awaited fruition brings. A cocoon of warmth and safety recedes like fading echoes and the breeze vanishes, carrying a part of you leaving behind a lingering phantom till the pages open again.