Our single-celled ancestors emitted vibrations to alert those passing by of fodder. This assured the progress of survival. What began as survival morphed into a fashion statement. Language is a silk scarf, an argyle necktie, or a well-worn sandal. It allowed Monks to establish a monopoly on the text trade, mass producing script to be distributed like a floozy whistling their prices from a soapbox. When Gutenberg abolished the slave trade of words, the monks rioted in “peace.”
We take for granted the option to place a crooked smile in lieu of a word. Each letter contains a song within its jilted lines. A docile hum that hunches inside a dark bell waiting to be exploited. We’re the bell ringers! The torch bearers of a rebellion in sound. When a conversation, simple as a question or brazen as a debate, launches from the throats of those participating, the vibrations of yore execute with excitement. Take pleasure in hello, goodbye, please to meet you and why. These are the greatest achievements conceived by an animal that murders its own kind for a scrap of paper.