The sixth of the series, translated…
The works, the smaller pieces are delicate, the larger ones, rich.
not my sketch…
The small boats, the small bridges, the small docks, with the gentle rain hitting the harbors, the larger fleets, the ships, leaned against the larger docks, sailed out, with the sunsets, into the distant seas.
The smaller diners offered the delicious foods, the good neighbors, the friendly towns, recalling that wonderful memory of a young child’s hand by the floral patches next to that river long ago.
Some needed a small sniff of the orchid by the window, while some needed to see that concrete jungle outside and down below.
Some needed a fist, others, only a finger. Some needed the mountains, some only needed the rocks from the mountains.
The smaller publishers are more delicate, with high density; producing by limited numbers, but high in quality; having not that much funding, but with highly acclaimed works; not having enough readers, but all of the readers are really focused in reading the books.
The writers that don’t mass-produce, the publishers that don’t publish by great volumes, for the sake of the readers that wanted something delicate, worthwhile to read. Smaller crowds, the split-up audiences, they’d shared, same interests, same goals, they’d become, connected, through the mutual enjoyment of reading books. A drop of tear came from the skies, hit the earth and became a lake, a breath on earth, turned into a cloud in the skies. Seeking out the delicate beauties high in altitude, seeking out the richer parts, in widths, taking what each needs, with different affinities.
not my sketch still…
This just shows, how various people needs and requires various things, what I’m interested in, may not be what interests you, and vice versa, and we should ALL respect one another for our differences, and feel connected because of our similarities.