...everything that makes us feel alive escapes language?
Or worse, seems capturable in language (hence poetry) but fades so quickly in the noise and fog of convention?
Sitting in the car, not dreading the work to be done back at the computer and voice conference, but already missing the heartbeat and perspective, navigating thoughts and words like landmines, psychic black holes on an astral plane returning us too quickly to the conventional sleep of consciousness.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
inadequate isn't even enough to capture how much language fails
Post a Comment