"He do the police in different voices"

I wish I could paint. I want to draw because words are obscure, the worst kind of medium;
our saliva adhesive gluing phrases together - we mutter cliches absentmindedly, unaware of what they really mean.

Words are counter productive, they are hopelessly abstract while
Images are organic and reliable.

I get the feeling when I look at a wholehearted picture, a classic visage, that description is irrelevant. Having described the sunset I forgot how it looked, I only remember how it sounded - for all my pale representations of ailing tokens I've presented very little in the way of any discernible experience. Feeling through the dark, every writer is trying to thumb her way along the light switch, constructing a weak imagining of what it looks like from how it feels in the dark.
Although I still love language, over and over again I'm finding its limitations.
Always in the face of something larger; always mediating between some truth and the rest.

Peace,
from the warzone,
Jesse Paul Borg.