this is how i travel,
with a paperback clung to
my chest, fingers wrapped 'round
like birthday gift ribbons
i sail on the syllables,
the music they make.
how many homes i have,
nestled in the spaces
between paragraphs and phrases.
each chapter an
island
where i'm somebody
else
this is how i learn,
how i journey -
between pages
and tales.
do not come to
find me
Should I start an Instagram exclusively for my words?