This post is a little prose I am writing off the top of my head right now. Sometimes I just get that little urge to write something and it keeps nagging at me until I release is from its prison known as my mind. Enjoy!
As I walk along this abnormal path lined by empty strips of where places of business used to be and the butts of many cigarettes tossed there just like the life of the person who pressed that filthy thing to their lips, I can see it there in the distance, waiting for me to escape reality and enter its gates of wonder and imagination.
I reach the entrance and slowly creep up its marble stairs which gleamed as the sunbeams dashed upon them, unlike the broken, dirty, concrete I had just left behind. I glance straight up at its towering height and see above me branded upon its face the words "Lakewood Public Library." Those words translate in my mind to "The keys to an imagination's paradise."
Walking down the corridor, the walls are lined with pictures taken from the eyes of the very souls who live in this small city. They sort of greet you giving you one last look from many different views of this town before you escape into a world of your own. I turn left and begin walking down isles and isles of literature with bindings so flashy that the colors just overwhelm you.
One isle in particular has a brilliance of colors that it's nearly impossible to not remove a book from its home let alone pass the enter shelf completely. Beaches, buildings, jungles, wonders, city lights, and so much more advertise what the world has to offer. Italy, Belize, India, Fiji, France, Germany, New York City. All these names and more bombard your eyes, trying desperately to grab your attention. I lay my hand upon a shelf, ready to select my first adventure. But then slowly, I let my hand drop back to its side and pass through without even rescuing one book from its motionless state. What caused me not to see what a new land has to offer, what treasures were out there calling to me, what sensations my senses itched to discover? It's the fact that these books are not enough. I long to travel, to see the world. I've seen many pictures of the Statue of Liberty, the Roman Colosseum, the Grand Canyon, the Eiffel Tower, and even the Northern Lights. I've made lists upon lists of places I want to visit and researched countless times of what wonders are out there. But I've been disappointed before. So close on the edge of actually seeing those dreams fulfilled only to have them shattered like glass. Opening those treasure troves only makes me yearn even more for that adventure, yet leaves me empty knowing it will be along time before I have a chance to see such awe.
Leaving reality behind I come across an array of quests waiting to be conquered. Selecting a few, I retreat to a cozy chair a crack open the contents. All is quiet and peaceful, except for the occasional screaming of someone's bratty child who hasn't had a good spanking in a long time if even ever. I tone out the ear-bleeding cries and fall into an extraordinary rabbit hole that even Alice would be proud of.
I have once again been through a battle through the eyes of a navy seal, swung blades with a demon-possessed pirate thirsty for blood, rode on my trusty steed next to a king who's fame is even beyond him, and even learned about the world of tipping from Sin City to the Big Apple.
Suddenly the hands of my watch flash an undesirable hour and I realize I must come back to complete reality. I return the key to lands beyond my wildest imagination to its place, knowing that someone else will stumble upon its magic just as I had. I step out into the bright sunlight and a grin breaks my still complexion. Until next time my old friend.
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