here we are again.
another mix of just twenty-six letters.
welcome to a plethora of questions.
a strange reality,
in which the only answers lie somewhere beyond the horizon of time.
a weird world where everything i need lies around me.
but none of it is ever graspable.
what if we had a way to convey it in writing?
more than just the combinations of strange
no capital letters,
no exclamation marks,
just some paper, 26 letters, apostrophes, periods, question marks, and us.
could we do it?
how did you just read this question?
i don’t think that you’d picture me yelling this right now.
i don’t think you’d picture me whispering this right now.
hell, i don’t think you’d even picture me talking at all right now.
so what is it that drives us?
what is it that proves our ebullient and depressed natures to the rest of the world?
when does plain text start to get boring even when talking keeps going?
how do we perceive that emotion around us?
you’re reading this to yourself.
what are you hearing?
how are you perceiving this speech?
or is it the other way around?
do we read our writing or do we write our readings?