it was the first time he knew “word”

When he was thirty-six years old, it was the first time he knew “word”
(His third birthday, his first one was twelve years old.)
Mother opened the case, He felt sun shine.
Mom gave him a pen as a birthday present.
He had no idea how to use it.
“ You must use it with word. Word is a kind of speaking.
We apply different meaning to words, such as what we see or how we feel.”
“Is it a kind of toy?”
“Almost the same, try it.”
She held his hand to write his name: S-C- H-U-B-E-R-T.
The wall soon filled with his own words .
“Mom, I need another empty suitcase”.
She gave him pieces of paper.
He wrote down everything he saw, suitcase, floor, wall, room, mother, mother’s clothes, her eyes, her lips, her kissing, the sunshine, the window, and the wind.
He started to face the mirror to write about himself, his eyes, his noise, his hand, and his pen…. when he finished all he can write, he began to take his words apart.
He used the part of words to rebuild an empty suitcase and broke the words to rebuild a wood factory, a forest, a tree, a seed, and a soil…
He deconstructed everything he wrote.
He deconstructed the drafts, which are as high as ceiling.
He reduced the height of them, little by little, to a piece of blank paper.
How amazing! After twenty years, I wrote a blank page.
Now, he wants to write a story about how people review an unwritten book and how it disappears