“Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another’s skin, another’s voice, another’s soul.” — Joyce Carol Oates

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How many different worlds can fill the whiteness of paper. . . .

            . . . . can emerge from the inky tip of a pen, or spring from the lead of a pencil?

How many different people can be brought to life. . . . 
                                                                 
                                                     . . . . and death, and everything in between?

How many different places, and adventures, and romances, and horrors can unfold. . . .
           
        . . . . from absolutely nothing. . . . 

                                                           . . . . but the thoughts of a single mind?

                                                              The amount is infinite.