The World of Letters

I never liked soup as a child.

One afternoon, after lunch, my mother brought home alphabet soup, saying it would help me learn my letters. I wasn't convinced, but those letters stayed with me, becoming the foundation of my imagination. They built fortresses in my mind, spawning images that sent my imagination soaring to boundless, dizzying heights.

I remember my father reading to me, his voice breathing life into those black lines that meant nothing and everything.

I would stare at the pages, pretending to read, making everyone laugh. But I was learning, reaching for sentences like they were treasures.

It became more and more intriguing to grasp the meaning behind those words. Then everything started to be felt in new ways.

What are words to me? Someone said, "Everything has already been written." Maybe that's true. But we keep writing, keep talking, keep living. Words blur the brutality of reality, heal the silence, create worlds within the galaxy of our souls. They are poison and panacea, war and peace, Ares and Aphrodite entwined. Words are like family. Where do they come from? Are they a surprise, an order, a profound draw?

W-O-R-D

They howl and entice, soothe and ignite. They are a passage, a dimension, a mass of land where letters live and breathe.

Without words, we're beasts, left to grunt and glare. With them, we argue, love, seduce. We become human. Words started bringing it well before bringing it ill.

They, like all other forms of relief, contain some poisoning. In words, peace is triggered, the conflict calms down, puts down its conscience, and words are thought, and thoughts are lived. In words, Ares and Aphrodite merge, the bloody roll in the letters defeats the noun of sighs with warm spring and summer showers. And, not to be ambiguous about its tautological implication, but to comprehend that thinking, speaking, and writing are necessary in order to record.

Words, words, words... What is your genealogy of the Word? Wo (as a surprise); ord (as an edge of order); rd (ready?); drow (as profound); or draw (as raffle)?

W-O-R-D

And they howl me into their fog again, making me like cozy, juicy, soft touch; and I want to get to the essence through the heart unrest. And then they fight like old rifts and remain a victim of a spark.

They are worlds that pass dimensions. But what are the words, I ask again? Shaped mass of lands letters in which the minerals are vowels, the vitamins are the accents, with them agree on reptiles and beetles-vowels. The letter land where words without words cannot. What if people get numb? How to argue? How to love? How to seduce? If words did not exist, people would be viewed as loathing political beasts left without a noble instrument of communication other than whining, huffing, and glaring with malice.

In some of the worlds, opening lines are: "Hey, don't be evil; the next time will be better."

Words are a passage.