I am full of words.

Melancholy Sunday. Feels like a Monday. I've been reading Anne Sexton and Pablo Neruda...two of the most honest, magical, and talented contributors to modern literature. They cut right through your skin with their wonderful words and make your soul still. I could sit all day in their lingering prescence...even though it breaks my heart. They have a way of calling me to a higher understanding of humanity. Ayn Rand (another great lady and author) considered each work of literature a seperate universe that you trip into when you read that first sentence. Everybody should read. What other way can you ride elephants in Bangkok, swim in the Pacific Ocean, or fly planes with Amelia Earhart from the comfort of your very own home?