Isn’t it odd how
much fatter a book gets when you’ve
read it several times….?
As if something were left between the pages
every time you read it….
And then, when you look at the book again
many years later, you find yourself there, too…
…a slightly younger self, slighlty different,
as if the book had preserved you like a
pressed flower – both strange and familiar…
and there’s your story…
and there’s a story behind everything…
how a picture go on a wall;
how a scar got on your face.
Some stories are simple.
Sometimes, they are hard.
And heart breaking.
And behind all stories is
always your story….
And your story is
the journey of your heart.