The tunnel of summer trees, green and deep are making it difficult to see far down the dirt strips of the road. Spanish moss hangs low from the branches, giving it an eerie aura that not many have traveled these parts. The sun rays break through with blinding beams just before it sets. I’m blinded and confused in the twist in the road, unsure of what’s coming or where I’m going.
To form a mental image in my mind, visibly see the image as it would grow into a story, which I was drawn into as I turned each page, to me, that’s what, comes from visualizing with creativity. I enjoy closing a good book, sitting back and thinking I certainly knew that character. Taking a trip, visiting a place I had read about and feeling like I have been here before and I had from the story.
That’s the incredible thing about books; there are so many genres, that there is something for everyone. A trip to the past, a conflict at present, or a leap into the future, there is always something. That is an adventure I find less youth experience today with the various computer games, movies, easy short cuts to get information without truly reading. What happened to those rainy Saturdays, when I couldn’t go outside, so a good book was the comfort of the day?