Letter To No One

Dear No One,
The book lies open, reading is not a crutch but a wing, flying is the crutch, imagination is neither wing nor crutch, but comes from flying which is a crutch and reading which is a wing. How can this be?

Sincerely,
You'll Never Guess Who

I have been doing this a lot: typing wierd poem-like things into the search box in google, and seeing what comes up. This one turned into a strange letter. I call it the letter to no one.

Here's another letter to no one:

Dear No One,
If I were to stare at a rather square ball, would it become round? How can a ball be square in the first place? I think not, but in my sight I see one. A misfit. A lamb in a field of llamas. My eyes glaze over from the intensity of thought. Llamas devour the grass, and the lamb weeps. The tears are like the blood of the llamas as the lamb attracts lions to the field. Yet the lamb escapes. What does tell me about myself? Am I a lamb or a llama? I think I am a lamb, but is this good? Would I want to spend the day in the feild of llamas? Will the computer notice if I spell "llama" with capitol I's, as in ice that cannot support the weight of the lamb, who drowns, and joins the horrid IIamas. Yes, it noticed. But who is the villian in this scene? Are you a llama, a lion, or a lamb? Please give your thoughts to me, and tell me if the lions are the best? I think so, as they survive, and kill because they must. The llamas and lambs don't kill, but they still spread evil in their own ways. Lions being good made me think of Aslan from the series by C. S. Lewis. The Chronicles of Narnia. How good is a writer? Can a writer even be capable of good? Yes, but only bad ones. Does this seem right? I hope not.

Sincerely,
You'll Never Guess Who

I hope you enjoyed a little nonsense.