A little writer with a long way to go


I wish I could narrate my life
like a script with asides and footnotes.
I’d be able to add inflection to the basic typography of the words on paper.

Script is how we write out the universe.
Why, then, should our lives not be words back to the universe?

In the end, that’s what it comes down to for me.
Words cross time no matter how many times the type changes.
We learn to write no matter what our language.
I wonder, Why are we the only species to do this?

What do you think?

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