…And sure, sometimes it was difficult when people roaming the aisles didn’t know what they wanted from the bare shelves; when suspicion, cynicism, dammed his way like stacked dynamite. But he could have patience since every customer was always right. And that his shop was indeed the welcoming door in the neighborhood, the place where any scavenger hunt could eagerly begin. Where, guaranteed, any items could be imagined, asked for, and scratched off the list, no matter how unique, no matter.
From “The Art of Scavenging” M. Merens
Why stop on your travels to sit alongside?
Words cannot simply be taught as subject-verb-object constructions on a page. For sometimes words may turn out to be the very surgical tools, blankets, anchors, and buoys of our existence; what we cling to in the years when the doctor can’t come, the bus doesn’t pick up, or loved ones can no longer be reached and then even their shadows are gone. Sometimes words are the only echoes we can count on to carry us beyond desperate times and all we will end up with after the reaching.
And so of course, we must try.