This popped up in one of the blogs I read…

A piece of literature stands as an artifact of an individual’s experience; to read, appreciate, and ingest a piece of literature is to immerse yourself in the mind of another person. There is no closer intimacy than that achieved through immersion in the writings of another; the fear of someone reading your diary attests to this. Physical intimacy is a superficial closeness; behind the flesh and intensity of engagement, one can still hide one’s true self. In fact, many people engage in intense physical intimacy specifically to obscure their true selves. To know someone, you must interact with their mind; a piece of literature is the mind laid bare.

I often wonder about my little readers out there. How well do you think you know me? What I write may or may not be true but it had to come from something I experienced. Didn’t it?