Stephen Frye is a god.

Not The GOD, but a god. Though the more I write these days the more Messianic he may become.
There is this wonderful post on Facebook that has him talking about words and someone has illustrated the speech with the words themselves. They move and punctuate and dance to the rhythms of his language and his emotion, adding even more to his voice and the speech.

Which reminds me of the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh movie. One of my favorite memories is of Tigger climbing down from the tree along the paragraphs and sentences as the book is set sideways for him. Words can be used to support a Tigger, so they must be good, was my thinking. And really, am I wrong? Words are full and wonderful and mailable and can they do anything and everything and nothing, all at the same time.

It is a truly blustery day outside and I am inside reading, and thinking of words, and hoping all the animals in the forest are indoors and safe and reading around the fire and drinking cocoa.

And I am thinking Stephen Frye is a god.