my secret escape

The keys are smooth, and the room is silent. I sit at my cluttered desk everyday with a new piece of paper in the typewriter. I make an attempt to write something new; something original. It doesn't always come out the way I hope, but it comes out in slow, soft ways that reflect who I am. I have never met anyone who takes this much pleasure in a typewriter. For me, it isn't just a writing tool, it's a way to express myself. I love the first key I press; the first sound that breaks through the silence in my room. The written word comes alive when I type. The books seem to shout their stories, and the whole of my imagination gets typed up on one solitary piece of paper. Words dance around the room, almost like a tune, and I can see each word paving the way for the next. Suddenly, I stop. The page is full, and my mind is spent. This is my solitude.