Ink (or graphite, or chalk, or whatever) and Paper

It is amazing what power exists in ink and paper. Each are simple objects, neither of them particularly incredible; but when they are combined with a hand and creative mind, magic occurs. There are endless moments in which I find myself being changed by reading a book. When I read, I invest myself completely in what I am reading. I delve into the world the author has created and explore it like a child on a new playground. I flip through the pages and breathe deep in anticipation, climb through each sentence, grinding their ideas into my mind similar to grass stains on a child's knees. I walk up timidly to other children in the playground, at first feeling out of place, but with further observance come to know them. I begin to understand them, sympathize with their feelings, come to love them, and even hate them. This new world blends into my own, with me as the catalyst for the transformation. I see people differently. Real people. My friends, family, and strangers. My outlook on life is altered, my emotions are magnified, and epiphanies are always eminent. The things I read fuse to my soul and become one with who I am.