A Writer Is A Man Like Any

What Kind Of World Is This That Can Send Machines To Mars And Does Nothing To Stop The Killing Of A Human Being?

There Are Such Moments In Life, When, In Order For Heaven To Open, It Is Necessary For A Door To Close.

Perhaps It Is The Language That Chooses The Writers It Needs, Making Use Of Them So That Each Might Express A Tiny Part Of What It Is.

Yet Human Experience And The Practice Of Communication Have Shown Throughout The Ages That Definitions Are An Illusion, Like Having A Speech Defect And Trying To Say Love But Unable To Get The Word Out, Or, Better, Having A Tongue In One's Head But Unable To Feel Love.

Life Is Like That, Full Of Words That Are Not Worth Saying Or That Were Worth Saying Once But Not Any More, Each Word That We Utter Will Take Up The Space Of Another More Deserving Word, Not Deserving In Its Own Right, But Because Of The Possible Consequences Of Saying It.