Books.
They bind our way of life together with words and pictures that are written,typed,scribbled and sketched into pages bound by glue and other various things then placed on shelves or in bags or the hands of a person who is willing to read what someone has put inside these pages.
There are so many different kinds like Biographies,auto-biographies,dictionaries,table books,pop-up books,picture books,the books with good looks and terrible writing with plot twists and crooks,non-fiction,science-fiction and fiction that after reading so many it becomes an addiction.
Think of how many books have been published,how many have been written and forgotten,how many are half-way finished and never completed. So many billions and billions of books and billions and billions of pages that have been written with only the spark in their mind and the ink in their pen, so fluidly pressing the letters into each piece of paper and stitching the letters into a word,a sentence,a paragraph,a page,a chapter,the last letter of the last word on the last page.
But for some it’s not easy,it’s very hard,a struggle to press the pen to the paper and etch out the first word and to know what to write. Your mind in neutral as you’re screaming at yourself “What am I to write!? What is important?! What do they want to hear and read?”.
So at last you write the first thing that comes to mind…”Once apon a time..” and with the last ink droplet from your pen it’s like your pen is the flint and your paper the striker as you continue to write the sparks fly and set the world around you on fire as you desperately write down whatever you see in your head and fighting to keep that idea there and finish the next word,the next sentence,the next paragraph,the next chapter until you’ve run out of ink or you’re hand throbs,cramps and burns from the continuous bashing and scrapping of the flint to the striker.
This...this is how to make a book.
