Tuesday, October 23, 2012

on reading atwood

I have never read a book like this. Not ever. And I've read quite a few. I really have. Books and books and books, swallowed whole without much chewing, like a person starved. For a story. But this book. These words. Hang in the air like droplets of fog. Move and they condense on my skin. Breathe and they lodge in my lungs. So I walk slowly and inhale completely, pausing pausing pausing before -- just one more moment ---- before exhaling everythinglettinggolookingup. Turning the page.

Oh, oh, to write like that.