Words.

“Don’t gobblefunk around with words.” ― Roald Dahl

Words are the little yachts that float out in the burnished expanse of our lives. They are filled with passion or peace. At times with distress and fear and sadness. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to be surrounded by sailboats of jollity, humour and animation. They contain within them, these helpful vessels of information, the languages of the world cruising by together, buoyed by the need for communication and storytelling.

“Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.” ― Rudyard Kipling

They’re the currency we need to aid our verbal exchanges, to speak, to query and argue, to comfort one another and more importantly, ourselves. In our mind, words are the electric current that brings our brain to life, it switches on the lights in the rooms of the cerebral cortex startling it into action by thinking, by rifling through memories, conjuring imagination and solo conversations. We need words to talk to each other but what is striking is how much we crave words. How much we love them. Words, just for the pleasure of words. Words in diaries, in majestic tomes and novels that ferry us  elsewhere. They help us escape. There’s words on beloved blogs and magazines, by favoured columnists and well-liked writers, words by way of comments on social platforms under picture posts and on walls. The quotes we use to represent ourselves on different days in different moods, to articulate what we sometimes can’t explain.

“Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly — they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.” ― Aldous Huxley

Words soothe us, they uplift us, they make us soar. They ground us, they clarify our emotions, they give shape, they guide and bring hope. Words are how we reason intelligently and then fool around with silly chitchat. Some people have a way with them, an adroit ease. Others fumble and bumble their way to a point. Our love of words far outweigh our need for them. We feel better having them close, like breadcrumbs in our pockets, ready to scatter to any audience who will pay attention. We are hollow without words and words are empty without us.

 

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