Thursday, January 19, 2012

I just finished reading Kite Runner, written by Khled Hosseini.  Though it was a good book, it was an exhausting read due to the non-stop dram contained within—drama that was real instead of fictional.  That incessant drama boggled my mind.  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, that it was safe to turn another page, some other horrific reality would present itself.

Due to the level of chaos and sadness contained on those pages, my mind began to wander.  Happens…me being a writer.  What my mind conjured up was the following:

One must sometimes wallow in sorrow.  Pull it over their head.  Slip first one and then the other arm in like they might a sweater.  Once donned, that sorrow must be felt.  The wearer must experience how it moves with them.  How it constricts.  If it’s too binding.  Only then can one be synonymous with their grief.