Sometimes the rhythm of the spoken word has a melody unto itself. Without music to distract or comfort, readers are left with only the words to grapple with, to wrest meaning out of, and derive satisfaction from.
I don’t know why, but every so often I become distinctly aware that another season has passed, and my sense of smell, my memory, and my entire being recalls previous years far in the distant past. Nothing in particular triggers it, but when it happens I become acutely sensitized to life’s absolute grandeur. It’s like the stillness of a winter night when the snow has created the perfect atmosphere for hearing nothing but the roaring silence.
It’s during these times of quiet reverie that I find my musical gifts become muted, and I can only record my impressions in verbal form. I doubt you’ll find my efforts to capture my thoughts with clumsy words very enjoyable, but I invite you to read on if you like.
Feel free to browse the collections below.
Browse Writings I: Words to Accompany Pictures
Browse Writings II: Grey to Black and Back Again
Browse Writings III: Biography
To return Home, click here.
© 2008 Christopher C. Chan