Take a close look at that notebook. It is not filled with dense handwriting, if that’s how it appears because of my bad phone camera. That is, in all seriousness, very knotty, tight-woven, bewildering scribble. I watched the cameo-clad man for 20 minutes reading passages from the Bible and scratching indiscernible spirals in this notebook.
There were no words, no coherence or pattern to indicate that he was writing, perhaps, in a different language. I thought, for a moment, that maybe I was going insane: have I become so closed off to anything religious that I am unable to decipher it when I see it? Is that stuff in the notebook actually intelligible, but I am somehow unable to grasp it? It must be the type of thing that I can only understand after I find God (I think I’ve heard that one before).