Notations: Unable to hold the solitary vacuum any longer,
Facing the ocean the starless night poured itself in, I thought the story was complete. The low tide waves are mute, feet slow with mud. Each of us harbors something that could not be verbalized - words are too rough at times.
Something is lost in speech. Something is hidden the moment words are spoken. And petrified by that sadness, I close my mouth.
Words have a limit. By the definitive power of verbal speech, a reduction occurs. External honesty refers to the lack of censorship, but internal honesty is about precision. This precision and the act of verbalization can easily contradict.
We could try to redefine words. To negotiate, adjust and find new meanings. But against the less contextual system of language that permeates, they drift away.
In the murkiness of whatever that resides, I try to draw in something, again.
Futile as it is.