When my love life is barren I turn to my love of words. (I wonder if there is a causal connection there?) I always have a book with me, often with the pages torn and bent from cramping into bags too small to be meant for books.
On Monday I met with fellow word-ie and book club partner Gint to go book shopping. After looking through BMV, The World's Biggest Book Store and The Reference Library we left with only words spoken. This may seem futile, but it lent well to the rest of our evening.
We met up in High Park for the finale of a week long ode to words festival. The theme was the death of the book, and this final eulogy was in poem form. We all sat cross-legged on earth that was shaped into stadium-like benches, eating fruit and cornbread, drinking homemade sangria. Each author recited their work, we listened, laughed, clapped, groaned.
I left the festival enriched. With wine or words I'll never know.
No comments:
Post a Comment