The reading is not enough, I need to swallow it whole

Each story I finish

– particularly those filled with magic and sex and glamour –

begs more of methan the simple act of reading.

More than understandingor going on a journey.

More than tearsor laughteror insight.

I ache to dismantle ita word at a time,

lovingly reconstructing the paragraphs

with my own imperfect handsto understand how

it lives, breathes, loves, dies.

Pull apartinfinitesimally fine layers to reveal

the secret of its existence.

Dissect the black and whiteand find

the soft red within

so that...