WWC and It Called to Me

Dear DSL,

Your service is excellent, I have no complaints. You almost never go out. However, last night you did. And, well, see, it might get me in trouble. I had an assignment due and because of you I have to be late. And that might get me ten pokes with a spork. And that would kinda hurt. So, if you could not do that again I would appreciate it. Or, at a minimum please do not go out on Tuesdays or Wednesdays. K?

Thanks for your consideration

Newt

Brown

The Quick Brown Dog Slept like a Lazy Fox

Shades of sleeping kitty browns

Patterns of my Brown Wood

Pattern

Newt's pajama pattern is Pooh

The Deathcicles hanging from our home - they have reached a length of 3-4 feet.

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Seeing as I wanted to start out on the right foot with my resolutions I did go to Barnes & Noble on the 1st. I wandered around looking at the clearance books, the used books, and the new and noteworthy. I perused the new and noteworthy once, twice, and then a final third trip down the aisle, just to see what might catch my eye.

Scanning, scanning, pick one up - eh, sounds ok. Pick up another, nope, no interest. Scan, scan. Oh, wait, what is this, this one hidden on the bottom, deep in shadow.

"The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak. Holding it in my hand it seemed to hum, just a little. There was an energy that I found attractive and alluring. The last time I felt a book hum was "The Thirteenth Tale" and before that, "Shantaram". That feeling that I have to drop everything I am doing in life and immerse myself in a book. That feeling that my life will never be the same by the time I close that back cover.

So I walked with my yet still humming book over to the coffee counter. Over the angelic music wafting from my arms I ordered a mocha, and a cookie (I said nothing about eating better in my resolutions). And then I curled up at the bar (it's not easy to do, but I managed) and cracked open the pages....................

The first chapter: "Death and Chocolate"

Well hell, how can you resist a book that starts like that.

and a few paragraphs later:

.........."The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps.

The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?"

This story, it is narrated by death. And from page one the prose are lyrical and thought provoking and beautiful.

Death thinks he might like a vacation.

"Still, it's possible that you might be asking, why does he even need a vacation? What does he need distraction from?


Which brings me to my next point.
It's the leftover humans.
The survivors.

They're the ones I can't stand to look at, although on many occasions I still fail. I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs."

So far this book has stopped me several times dead in my reading tracks. I back up, I re-read, I contemplate.

I love, word after word after word. I love.