You Prefer Not To See The Gears

He Spends The Majority Of The Evening In The Company Of Celia Bowen, Whose Elaborate Gown Changes Color, Shifting Through A Rainbow Of Hues To Compliment Whoever She Is Closest To.

I Saw In Details While She Saw In Scope. Not Seeing The Scope Is Why I Am Here And She Is Not. I Took Each Element Spearately And Never Looked To See That They Never Did Fit Together Properly

I Like That "once Upon A Time" Quality, Where The Telling Of A Tale Has An Elevated Sense Of Story. There's A Whimsical Quality To It. Sometimes In Fairy Tales More Things Seem Possible, Even Though Often They're Real World Based.

You May Tell A Tale That Takes Up Residence In Someone's Soul, Becomes Their Blood And Self And Purpose. That Tale Will Move Them And Drive Them And Who Knows That They Might Do Because Of It, Because Of Your Words. That Is Your Role, Your Gift.

There Is A Movement Happening, A Quiet One. A Low-profile, Low-resolution Revolution. Comprised Of Writers And Dreamers, Of Guerrilla Artists And Thought-ninjas. Those With Something To Say. They Communicate Through Text Inscribed On True Public Spaces, Rather Than Blogs And Forums. Choosing Fewer Words, Even Without Being Bound By 140 Character Limits. Using Ink Instead Of Pixels. Sending Messages In Living, Breathing Space. Pens Scream Louder Into The Void. Even If Permanent Ink Is Not Aptly Named.