Have you ever found yourself just sitting down on the floor and eating strawberries? There juice spilling down the edge of your lips. They taste like perfume and feel like cold, fresh gardens in your chest and your stomach. That’s how I feel when I write! Like I am picking out fresh strawberries right from my laptop screen. Like I am growing them on my pen and paper instantaneously. Uffff, the way words affect me, the way they make me feel. The way they transform from gibberish on my keyboard to actual living breathing beings. Like cats purring against the wall of my brain, rubbing their necks in lazy contentment. Like sparrows hopping around delicately twittering under my fingernails. Like caterpillars climbing up my spines. Filling every part of me with soft spoke fairytales. How precious every word is! How beloved is each breath that follows each sound and brings me closer to you and brings you still closer to me! Listen to my conversation, its melody, and rhythm. We are telling stories just standing here leaning against the wall and drinking coffee in the heat. How crazy is that? How explosively fantastic that I am kissing my words away to you. In exchange for the words behind your tongue and tooth. Right here in public, we are practically making love in the middle of the afternoon. Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? If God punished Adam and Eve to suffer on Earth from the rest of eternity: He made a big mistake by giving them words because... Look at us! Look at what we did! We built language into our own paradise for humanity.
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