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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Ray Bradbury, Albert Camus, and Me

shadow lines

I seriously just had the most amazing experience.

Reading.

First time I can ever remember a story becoming alive to me from the printed page.  Full of colors, and smells, and stars. 

Then, it merged into another story I had read, elsewhere.  Full of heat, and death, and regret. 

And the two stories became what I felt I’ve been living since I don’t know when.

That’s as deep as I’ve been in a while.

And I swear I have smoked no peyote.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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5 thoughts on “Ray Bradbury, Albert Camus, and Me

  1. Oh, you midwestern boys…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I must have made a comment on this in my head last week … what I wrote was: Because Ray Bradbury, after all. I got to meet him when he came to the Sturgis Auditorium here in San Bernardino I think it may have been in 2007 or 2008 to talk about F451. I got him to sign my copy and had to resist the temptation to hug him forever as a thank you for his inspiration to the words that fall out of my fingers ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There are certainly worse people to have in your head 😶 I keep him and of late, Stephen R. Donaldson (Thomas Covenant series), always in mind …

    Liked by 1 person

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