I'm really just about the words you know, I don't know anything except the words I learned to spell in elementary school, after being taught the twenty-six letters in the English alphabet. What are words worth anyway except for transmitting ideas across generations, if not the outline of whispers cast from our genetic scriptures, whose illuminating rays continue to shine on, caressing the empty page of future souls we're plummeting into, a living fruition to lengthen and embody ourselves as sons and daughters with their story in song and dance, while the shadows of these tales are captured in shut compartments, stored to be opened later, and decoded visually by eyes in constant dilation along this particular wavering breaker. These strange beings will always drink our wine, because in time, our story becomes their legend.
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