WORDS WITH STRANGERS.

I went to a writer’s night at a bookstore recently, and I sat and I listened to a room of strangers share words about grief, and heartbreak, and also happier times, in-between times, and life after realizing there’s “more to life”.

I heard stories in progress about memory, caterpillars, teenage vampires “going through it”, and simple and poetic observations from life as a baggage handler.

Someone even shared riddles they wrote.

It reminded me how words are what help us reach outside of ourselves.

They separate us from flora and fauna. Language is a gift.

We should always choose our words carefully. With purpose, meaning, and intention.

Also.

Delivery matters.

xT

@teodoranico