Read the story below, and then I'll explain.

If you're stuck on a word, click it to ↻ see anew.

Tihs is not a tpyo
by Arthur Klepchukov

I bet we glimpse the world a little different. For example, what do you see when you spot a little free library? You know, those elaborately decorated wooden bird boxes in nicer neighborhoods that are full of books shared by nice neighbors doing nice things?

You probably see generosity. I see my only opportunity to practice reading.

They don’t let people like me into a bookstore (on most days). I don’t exactly have money. Or a job history. Or even a wallet. Libraries are nicer, but you can’t get a library card without ID. And everyone reading there reads such intimidating, serious things.

Yeah, I said practice reading. Because I have to admit, I never fully learned to read. The letters, they just won’t stay still. No matter how much I try. But, when I was a kid in school, we didn’t have fancy terms for what might be brewing up there in our noggins. We got hit with a ruler if we were too stupid. Even if it wasn’t math. I’m better with numbers, but I still hate math.

I rejoice when a kid leaves a comic book in a little free library. The good ones can tell a story with only pictures. And there aren’t so many words that I can’t piece it together eventually. Kids books are great, but I don’t feel right denying a little tyke a good read. I don’t come across a lot of comics. They’re not “real” reading material, or so I overhear.

Eavesdropping's another hobby of mine. I live for a good story shared out loud. Makes me imagine the worlds people roam in between pages and pages of books. All those ideas. All those delicious words. Must be marvelous.

Sometimes, I have to admit, I’ll fetch a newer looking paperback or hardcover from a little free library and sell it to a used bookstore. It’s a few bucks, but when you’re hungry… Sometimes I can unpack a word like “delicious,” and doesn’t deciphering the letters fill your belly with something scrumptious? The idea of a word can be a momentary escape when sleeping on concrete—hopefully close enough to one of those air vents releasing steam and heat on cold days. Could be poisoning me for all I know, but gets me through another night to another word on another page.

So when you see a little free library, especially one a little empty, put something in. Might be the only words some of us have.

What's going on here?

This is a sympathy exercise to imagine what it might be like to read with dyslexia.

Every time you visit this page, the story changes. Not the meaning, but the order of the letters inside most words. If you can still read them, that's thanks to a phenomenon called typoglycemia.