The words wouldn't flow and nothing worked.
You can't force it, letters drip from your fingers as they tickle the plastic keys.
Like magic they appear on an illuminated surface and then disperse, sending their message to screens across the globe.
The books in the cargo hold swell slightly, as if the letters within shifted and turned over to rest, or was it just a change in weather ?
On donkeys backs books make the slow winding route to the library, strapped safely into saddlebags to deliver the message of the age.
A soft click and the information appears. And appears again and again.
The message has gone, dispersed.
The words flowed too much, something stirred and the letters went to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment