Sometimes I get tired of words. Written words, spoken words. Words, words, words. Everywhere only words. Words at home, words at work. Words heard in the bus, words spoken in the shop. Words, words, words.
The meanings behind the words, never the same, always the possibility to explain everything in a different way.
I didn’t mean what I just said.
But you said it, anyway?
Words. To toy with words, that is what I do. My work is based on words. I use spoken words as tools to comprehend. And the more I hear words, the less I understand, because words can lie, cheat and guide you astray.
And I know it and all the time I wonder why we can’t speak with real words, say what we really think.
Oh, but that requires more words.
After the spoken words of the day, I swift into written words, and my mind starts to burst and words flow to the screen.
Suddenly I realize my tiredness. I’m worn-out of every word. I want to hear nothing. I want to see nothing. To read or write or to speak couldn’t interest me less.
A picture, a photo doesn’t demand words. I can just feel. Or not.