I held a newspaper in my hand and examined everything about it except for the words. I ran my fingers over the soft, bumpy paper. I brought my nose close, breathed in, and could smell something almost sweet. I looked over the letters printed in crisp black ink. I didn’t read them, but I examined them. I took note of their sharp, serif font that gave off an air of importance about the words printed regardless of the actual significance of what they spelled out. I ran my finger over the side and felt the edges ruffle as my finger pushed down and then released them allowing for little puffs of air to be felt by a hand that was held close enough. I opened it and fully listened to the crackling sound that the pages made as they were all pulled tight against each other. I looked at this newspaper. I didn’t read it, but I looked at in its physical entirety. I could burn this newspaper. I could make into a pile of ash and separate the individual grains of ash into a million that could ride on the back of a summer breeze into another world and never be called a newspaper again. The words on the newspaper were different. They made reference to truths that existed with or without the words. I could read about a family that lost their house in a fire or the obituary of Seymour Williams and how he died far sooner than he should have in a terrible car accident, but I’d just be reading the words. I wouldn’t be in those moments where I could possibly change something. That family’s home is gone. It keeps burning down and down no matter how many times any person should read about it. The contents of Seymour’s head will be on the dashboard of his nearly folded in half Chrysler until the end of time, and I can’t do anything about it. Reading about it won’t help anything no matter how hard I try. The words will say the same thing every time they are read, and if they don’t, the truth that the words once spelled out will continue to be the truth regardless of those words. I can burn that newspaper. I can burn away the words that tell such terrible truths, but all I’ll get from it is a pile of ash.
Wow. Not only were you descriptions very nice and enjoyable to read, but you also tied a meaning into them. I’ve noticed you have done this with a lot of blog posts, and this one is no different. Good job!
The first sentence is an amazing attention grabber; I had to read it twice, wondering what the rest of your piece would bring. I like the way that you said the font, “gave off an air of importance… regardless of the significance.” I can imagine what that paper looks like, and the scene around it. I like that this whole piece is just as descriptive, but more-so, in that it means much more than just a newspaper. The change near the end is beautiful, where you speak of not being able to change anything, it’s already done. The ending is amazing, and it leaves the reader wanting more. 🙂
I like how descriptive you are with your writing. No matter the subject matter, you never overlook any small detail, and this was no different. Great piece.
I really like your writing style. It always seems to impress me. You have your own original voice and sound. I love it, honestly. In this piece you gave such specific detail and it helped me imagine the entire scene. I thought it was very well done.
I like the descriptive wording you used. The sensory use makes it seems as if the readers are the ones performing the actions and thinking these thoughts themselves. You make it’s importance seem so real and significant. All the misfortunes within the paper could all very well happen, which make it even more relatable.
I expected someone or something to die in this post but what i got was far better. It really amazed me with your detailing and point that you ended up making. I always thoroughly enjoy your writing and this is no different. Great job!
i really enjoyed the physicality of this piece, if that makes sense? like, i enjoyed how you analyzed the newspaper for what it’s physically made of before ever considering what’s written on the pages, and i love how the last three sentences really capture how words become permanent as soon as you read them, even if you try to destroy their physicality.