What we learn and know

Language is a silly thing.

A very good friend of mine does not speak English. He understands it fluently, and expresses himself in it daily, to a speaking world that sometimes frustrates him to no end.

There are parts of his life that I will never understand, even though someday I may live in his world. Having lived in mine first, I will only ever be a tourist, I cannot become a native.

Today I am writing one of my favorite characters I’ve ever put to pen. I invented it last week, and it’s beginning to feel as if it simply found me, and decided to stay a while. I may in fact be over-writing it, since it has no real dialog, and is represented by action rather than words.

Lack of thumbs and vocal cords can do that to a being.

I’ll never know its world. I’ll never be as it could be, see, smell, hear, taste and feel the way it does those things. It’s as alien a creature as can be imagined, and the odds are high you’ve got one in your house right now.

Or at least, something that used to resemble one, until we made them more to our liking.

Not done writing tonight by a long shot. I have to stop and eat, lest I lose what momentum I have built to a different sort of obstacle. And there are folks coming by to watch the big screen, in glorious high definition.

Gonna try really, really hard to put the pen down when they arrive.