Hello National Geographic, my dearest friend. Thanks for properly capturing the whirlwind inside.
The first impulse of someone broken is to desire. You may want food, lust after another or crave nostalgia if only to get past the sun rising and setting. Perhaps if I were someone else, this would be my first recourse too. I have enough food at home and memories stored to keep those things in check. As for lust, it’s always the easiest. Nothing’s stopping me from going out and finding the steps to an old dance. It’s always easy to reel anyone into an illusion and steal a few souls before dinnertime.
Hmm, what was I getting at? Right, desire. There’s this song that’s been coming up on shuffle. It goes something like, “after every desire, is another one, waiting to be satiated.”
Oh well. Wanna know what my compulsions are? Writing and books. I don’t remember when I wrote so much it kept me up all night, sharpening pencils, wanting to carve words on the walls to cocoon me from all this space. I had so much to say so suddenly and when, at last, the words became to heavy to be contained in the pages, I picked up Bradbury and read through his novella, Somewhere a Band is Playing. The blurb told half the truth about this journalist who leaps from a moving train into a small town of wonders. That was all I thought it would be. But as usual, things aren’t always what they seem. It turned out to be a love story scaling now until forever.
But it was more than that. It was so much more. It was about living forever among writers who knew the balance between revealing and concealing. It was about a man, Mr. Cardiff who falls in love with a twenty-one year old, immortal, Nefertiti. It was about all the places we grew up in and all the places we have yet to see.
Dear Mr. Bradbury,
If you have the key to unlock the secrets of this world and open a portal to another one–one where we live forever in Summerton, Arizona? Then please please please, send me the key. I would really love to live now and forever. Let’s make Dandelion Wine and listen for the creature coming out near the lighthouse. The creature whose sad call keeps me up at night peering out in the window. I would wail back but he might never come. Please, please, let’s just go.