Ghoster Wednesday

The want to write a million words; the want to fill with a carved-kind of constant falling a million perfect pages: perfect color and smell and perfect font. The perfect book. The want to fill the words with a pull and momentum that steers eyes down and across; that prompts fingers to be licked unthinkingly, pleasurably, sent to the page bottom-corner and into a lashing sound, turning the page over, to reveal a beginning more. All this want for words, perfected by a page, in a book, found in a word.