smells of antique things permeates the case as the lid opens
thoughts, words, and wisdoms long recorded for posterity
an entire history penned
notes, letters, poems, and novels
scribed to hopefully feel no less indelible than the joy of the beautiful machine
simple looking, but that belies its immense power
to allow us to taste immortality through words
sharing stories that create entire worlds in our mind just as vivid as our reality
a literary masterpiece
a letter home to mom during a war
amorous poetic tidbits to that crush sitting beside you in class
what wondrous and inspiring moments revealed by the chattering of the keys
the meditative cadence of typing
like a metronome of creativity
clack, clack, ping!
scents of the paper while loading into the machine
carte blanche, an unadorned canvas of composition
a quick breath out to psyche oneself up for the beginning
stretching of the fingers…
quick sip of coffee…
like
a
runner
out
of
the
blocks
the
story
begins
ping!
the typewriter questions not what mysteries are revealed to it through our words
it cares not for typos or grammar
it distracts with no notifications, no flashes, no badges, and no friction
forever a faithful companion to a literary addict
a mechanical serenade of levers, fulcrums, pulleys, and knobs
perhaps even buttons we don’t recall what they do
but does that matter?
the aura of contentment and smile says not
back to work…
the
world
within
unfolds
through
measured
clacks
ping!
another sip of coffee…
leaning back in the chair to rest and reflect
closing one’s eyes and smelling the paper and ink
another wisp from the cold metal of the frame
the oil of the gears that keeps this beautiful writing companion alive
a mistake quickly noted with a red pen for a future revision
or simply an excuse?
any
reason
whatsoever
for
another
dance
with
ping!
the typewriter.
Posted in #SeptemberScrawls - Day 5