Why I love words

talking
Credit: theumlaut.com

My name is Kate, and I can say for sure that I have had some word experience in my time. When I was young I tripped and stumbled over words. Like strangers in the street, doing a dance, attempting to co ordinate body and intent. I found them slipping out of my mouth, bumping into each other. I used my body to say my words, I created the words, huge with my arms, gesticulating wildly, like a melodramatic mime. Later, I became friends with words. They were no longer fumbling around each other, they were placed like luggage on a carousel, and I could select whichever case I liked. On a Friday I chose a lurid pink case and on Tuesday the case was tenebrous blue and understated. I became close with my words, my constant companions. They gave me confidence when I was shy, always holding my hand, but never my tongue. They gave me solace, curled between sheets when I was alone. Words have allowed me to find myself, words which spread black spidery legs across blank pages. I look back at my words, as a pool of water, crystal clear, my identity tangible beneath the surface.

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