Dear Alice,
Today I write you in a language we can both understand but none of us can comprehend. If only we could feel like this, with a mask constantly creating a gap between the tongue and the gut. But we have no safety belt, cry no easy words, we forget to live no easy life- we communicate only through breath and blood, silence and dispair.
So what's the point of screaming the air that we feel, trying to find god and love in words, when I've already read you? Let's kill authors, quotes and question marks. Let's just speak in any other language, let me write you in Spanish, French or German, let me lie to you in Afrikaans, Klingon, anyshit, the less we understand the more we feel.
To hell with this, let's just speak in tongues, isn't it ironic how Gutemberg found Pandora in the Bible?
We are not significance, we are just time.
Nitri sim campimi,
Julian Crave
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