I turn the thin pages of Nona’s diary. I like that I can’t read it. This way, the story will change and change. I find places where she underlined, places where it looks like tears fell on a page. The diary whispers and whispers, and sighs and sighs…
That is where my writing is these days… whispers, sighs and tears on the pages of my red leather bound journal. The darkness of depression moves me to write, but not here.
…and then, on one page, yells out loud. It is huge writing, just three words but they are happy. You can tell, the writing is happy.
(From Elizabeth Berg’s “Joy School”)
Longing for huge words to write.
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