My friend, Christi, posted on Facebook this amazing photo of a young boy reading in a bombed-out bookstore in WWII London. The powerful image stirred up a bit of emotion.
I write and edit for a living. But on a day-to-day basis, I don’t appreciate the importance of books — or hell, any written type of communication. Words transport, inform, inspire, incite, enrage. I shudder to think of a world without written communication. While I love television and film and YouTube and vlogs (yes, you, Lizzie Bennett diaries), I like the permanence of the written word. I like referring back to books, to links on the web, to my own journals. Life is fleeting. Tangible is comforting.
And yet, it was an image that inspired all this emotion I'm feeling. Hmmm…even more to think about.