Babel #2 | Umcomfort Flow
“Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.”
If FK would have known that it was so simple. The statement is one. Trivial? Not. Heard? Yes, abused.
“We don’t know much about ourselves.’’ We know nothing. I love to explore communication in all its shapes ( at least lately). I love to think that e v e r y letter that the reader brain processes forms some visual animation and maybe some chemical stimulation in the background of our conscious activities while reading, right now ( and right now, still). You are intrigued and you are suspending your judgment. Maybe just until now. Some W T F letters might start forming in your head, but you are not sure about it yet.
I feel good, I loved what it just happened and if What you are reading now was to prove a point, I just proved that. It is going to be hard to explain though, but I will ask the neurons to come in my help once again.
When I typed the first letters of this text I had not idea where I was going, and it was just 190 words ago. I started experimenting, keeping in mind two ingredients: 1) there are no boundaries s s and nobody will ever read this.
I have always felt I like writing, but rarely I have enjoyed it as much as in this precise moment. I don’t know much about myself, but I do know a bit more than 203 words ago, flowing. As soon as I started exploring new paths, some magic happened and now, guess what, I feel good. I feel free to write whatever I want. I am alone in my room. I don’t feel judged, by whom? Nobody is here. I mean I know there is grammar and sintax and beauty in the writing, but do weE always have to obeyeys the rules so strictliy? why? I still understa and everything of what I wrote. Why cant we just distrord the worsd a litle bit?
What if someone enters the room right now, takes my laptop and reads these 347 words. I would be ashamed! Or at least that is what happens in the scenario I am creating in my head.
But what if now a stranger enters the room, smiles at me and would start writing on h/im-er own ( make it a guy or a girl, up to you)? What if by friendly small talks we get to know that the both of us are writing with no boundaries, knowing that nobody will ever read what we write and that we allow a bit of freedom in thE way we write? Just because we can.
I would connect with the stranger instantly. It’s the first time I meet someone like me, wow. You know what? I would let the stranger read my text. Maybe. Is s/he still a stranger? No, now I trust h/im-er . We share a passion and we share our rules-no-rules. We share, we feel good and we create. We fear no judgment and we prove no point (hint). We have already evolved from 386 words ago, we know ourselves better and we have a new power. We removed some barriers and the vulnerability somehow helps. What is the reason why we don’t want people to read our stuff? After all, everybody has thoughts we want nobody to know and many people wrote some of them down, just for themselves. What is so scaring about sharing those ones? Not the evil ones, the others, the ones which suggest us who we are. Another stranger comes in the room. She looks like an explorer, she is hesitating but she decided to smile at us and she started to paint. She asks us what we are doing and, well, we are together now, so we tell her. We are writing, with no boundaries, rules-no-rules and nobody is going to read what we write. She thinks we are crazy, I see that in her eyes, but she is cool with it. She asks us if she can read our texts and for some reason we don’t really care and she reads. And she started to know herself better, or that is what she said. Ooh the system to turn sensations into words does not work well yet, but she felt kind of free. She started writing on her paint and we started painting on our words. We did not know why, we simply felt it. We were happy, we were sharing. Rules-no-rules. We were creating. We know ourselves better. And we discovered the world of painting. I thought writing was the only way of communicating I enjoyed.
To be 3.