I open the pages of a book and look at the chapters ahead
The snippets of how our lives are made
The re writes
The words scratched out never to be seen
The plot that was there keeps twisting and surprising us.
The characters that are forming and lesser characters may become so much more.
Sometimes taking out time over the words and forming them, basking in their beauty,
Other times racing through the chapter as it is too dark and scary, wanting to be at the end.
Whichever way the plot then goes you can only read one line ahead.
You do not know where the strands will be pulled taught.
What you do know is there is an end.
So enjoy the journey as much as you can