Whenever you read a good book, somewhere in the world a door opens to allow in more light. 

Vera Nazarian



On a soundless day in autumn, an entrance to a cinema jolts open and a cool breeze sweeps through me as invisible threads pull me past vines of thorns riddled on a concrete wall and forward into the beckoning like bees to a clover blossom. Days prior, the wind summoned my appearance at a succession of movies christened ‘The Story of You.’ I renounced the request; as the rooster crows, three times to be exact.

A cynic of the soupy divination of words gospelized, written or floating in tea leaves, lady luck thrown or positioned and karma prophesied by past lives, stars, boards, cookies or cards, I unearthed the sage of my minuscule universe using whatever side the coin flipped. Nobody or nothing, even the storm brewing inside, was commanding or analyzing my precarious idiosyncrasies. But, the unexplainable phenomena of the heavens knew I consumed movies to escape and to gather the awakening of answers hibernating deep in the crater of my being.

In a theatre where shadows animate and tango with lights, cameras, and action, I leap inside enchanted viewing rooms, snoop on and slide into lifespans, and journey among courtships where hearts free and secure, courage bares and restores, intellects feed or wither while giggles inhale ripeness or weep tears, dangling on the tip of fractured fairy-tales. I release hauntings without fear of judgment, assumptions or justification. I breathe. I entertain safety. Surroundedness. Held by shapes empathic to affairs one creates. Imaginary or not. Murmured in darkness. Screaming in a weightless chorus. Realistic or unfeasible.

For an introverted recluse such as myself, this longing for closeness seemed odd; like when a matador walks into a bullfighting arena, readying for the charge of a Spanish Fighting Bull enormous in size. But the heavens and I knew the coin flipped and the storm brewing outside and in rightfully commanded attention. So, after much internal wrestling, I listened to the whispers and donning my usual cloud of cynicism, walked into the arena. Eyes wide open.


Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity.


Hermann Hesse

One glance at a book and you will hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for 1,000 years. To read is to voyage through time.


                                                                                           Carl Sagan

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble.

Yehuda Berg