JOHN GARFIELD MCMORRAN
What do you see when you see words? I’ll take a wild guess and say that you see black marks on a page that swirl and connect to make recognizable characters. Do you want to know what words really are? They are portals to somewhere else. Where? Who can say? The author has an idea, but it’s you, you dear reader that makes this world come alive. See that rhino? The blue one that’s surfing on top of a kite as it tosses snowballs down on the sunflower castle? Whoa. Did you feel it? That little tug, that little pull of the other world inviting you in? I’m sure you did. An odd sentence like that is nothing if not worth imagining. So, if words are portals to somewhere else, what do we do with them? The answer is, it depends. Some people tiptoe up to them- but retreat whenever that little pull (kite surfing rhino) threatens to drag them further than they are willing to go. Then there are the others. The others are the ones that plant their hands firmly in the dot of an i- because this is where the portals lay, that innocent little dot above a common vowel- and pull their head through to gaze at the world beyond. You peer into the abyss- which can be any colour you like- and observe the marvels of your departure from reality. Leave your cellphones, your uncomfortable shoes, your car payments, and your nattering arguments behind: they have no place here. You gaze into this abyss and drink in all the stimulation your senses can imagine. With the author as your tour guide, come and visit this world. What’s that? You’re nervous to fall in you say? I’m sorry, but if you manage to fall in there is no way out. You will stare back at your other world and all its little obligations from a time and place where rhinos can surf on kites.