Some part:
I found myself staring at the photos of these people that I had never met. They had words like brother and sister attached to them, words that should have conjured up some emotion other than confusion. I started to notice some of the similarity, the noses that were round and small, the eyes that slanted toward the end and the mouths that curled up in the corners. These were similar to the ones I saw when I looked in the mirror, it was strange that they belonged to these others.
I sat on the floor while the banter carried on around me and lay three of the pictures on the carpet. A million thoughts began to race through my head. How do you get answers from a piece of paper? How do you extract words from those minds or warmth from any touch? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, perhaps this is true, but who`s words are they? Words are simply ideas that form from your own judgement about what your eyes tell you, so what worth do they really have, these pictures?
I could feel the tears and that knot in the bottom of my stomach. They had been my closest friends from the day the dreaded call had come. In that time I had also let them stay housed deep below the surface, they were not worthy of any daylight hours. No, these were my midnight friends, only allowed to show their faces when darkness craddled my body and silence sang me to sleep.
I sat on the floor while the banter carried on around me and lay three of the pictures on the carpet. A million thoughts began to race through my head. How do you get answers from a piece of paper? How do you extract words from those minds or warmth from any touch? They say a picture is worth a thousand words, perhaps this is true, but who`s words are they? Words are simply ideas that form from your own judgement about what your eyes tell you, so what worth do they really have, these pictures?
