Newspapers take peoples’ tragedies and force the world to experience all of it.
― Rebecca McNutt, Listen is Silent, or The Usurer
Centuries older were you
Who reduced everyone to an ignorant child.
As the sun rose everyday,
At my doorstep you arrived
With fresh tidings of
Novel ideas and events,
Of deaths and horrifying stories.
Man’s truest chronicler were you
Who told stories the way they were
Without clouds or endless alleys.
In you, did we see a heart of gold,
As you distorted yourself,
So a child could hold you
Like the adults did.
You underwent every dissection, and cruel scrutiny
The words you sheltered
Were forced to go through.
Weren’t you the strongest person
When children and adults
Fought glorious battles
For a few hours of your presence?
You were just
A few sheets of paper,
Bringing news from all over the world.
You were the whisper in the air,
The wise sage in the room,
The world’s diary;
A lost luxury now.
There seems to be something magical about printer’s ink. Once people read a story in a newspaper, most of them believe that story is true, even if it’s retracted.
― Kathryn Kenny, The Marshland Mystery
Introverted Thoughts aka D
I’m currently on a short hiatus to sort out some things but I’ll be back in July. I will get back to all your of your lovely posts and comments (if any) as soon as I’m back! Thanks so much for bearing with me!