I never lived a single-word life. Explanations resolved misunderstandings, interpretations resolved questions. It was always a world waiting to be decoded.

At first, I didn’t talk much. At home, we had learned that words are for instructions, so words provide practical solutions. Alas, if sentences were worn out by expressing emotions.

Thus, speech became an underground, revolutionary act. Through words, the gate to the senses opened, conversations were fearless dives into the unknown psyche, and song lyrics were the signposts that led to tomorrow. If we spoke or sang, nothing would remain the same. The abundant wording of sentences made the clocks turn.

When the words began to flow fearlessly, dreams began to come closer and closer. This suddenly made the present unexpectedly precious. Everything has value in the now if you don’t try to escape it.

Through the space they always occupied, words gave me room to maneuver, to find meaning, they filled me, they made/saved my life.

Sometimes, though, when trees or clouds are reflected in the window of a vehicle that I’m not at all sure who’s driving, I hide the words where they won’t be able to break the silence, because I need to enjoy the now. A now that I’m not sure is what my words called for or foretold, but it’s just as precious as any other now, and I’m learning to hold it close to my chest.

When the trees or clouds are reflected in my window, when my seat belt clicks and nothing can be one-dimensional anymore, the present has a faint glow of a dream.