Petrova

People disappear when they die. Their voice, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually, their bones. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there's an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they right, they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper. Preserved. It is a kind of magic