by L. Ryan-Harper

Fine writing, like fine spirits, is intoxicating; it is the nectar of another's tongue and the hard swallow of another's vision. We drink it in and our eyes are opened. There are among us souls who are infatuated with the written word while others prefer visual interpretation of the word and still others who need the titillation of the spoken word. Words overwhelm the senses, play upon our auditory canals and trip pictures in our minds. The silent word speaks volumes and the spoken word lies mutely beneath the crush of silence. Crush of silence itself sounds like a jackknifed semi carrying a load of alphabet soup; cans burst and strewn across a super highway spelling disaster to oncoming traffic.


L. Ryan-Harper is trained in the lost art of putting pen to paper.