As the wind blows brisk through my hair, I look towards the approaching clouds from the north. The sun has been blotted out giving a somber light to the now still terrace. Birds sing charmingly in the distance, an occasional rumbling motor rises from the monotonous “hum” of the city. One million sounds all put together have the same effect that colors do. Black, an abyss of ignorance.
Much like this white sheet of paper=the background. Then, after applying the words one has a dirtied piece of paper. An abyss if you will. After you read from the beginning, word for word the darkness is lifted by dawn and you become aware of each unique presence given off. This is the network of the actual day; an abyss made clear through understanding.
(This is part of a letter that I wrote to my little brother. I believe in handwritten letters.)