Words, spoken or written, are the representation of ourselves. They are the decanting and the spitting image of our thoughts, our feelings, our theories and our suppositions; in a few “words”, they are an indispensable part of us, part of our existence. A part that I consider very important. The absence of our words creates silence, a curious friend of the oppressed, that little by little, creates its own culture: the culture of silence. This interesting absence of sounds and letters only contributes to the development of my dearest friend. called repression. It, somehow or other, protects me, but, at the same time, it mutilates my limbs, it leaves me dismantled and destroyed.
Our words show us the way our thoughts are organized, and our thoughts show us the way our feelings are displayed. But, I wonder, why do antinomies are so overwhelming? Does the bloody war between chaos and order ever end? Is chaos necessary for order to exist? Why can’t order exist on its own? Why do we always have to justify the existence of something resorting to the existence of something else? Isn’t it an annoying habit? Does this world really need chaos to exist? Is it an indispensable part, or it could be extinguished? Can everything be peaceful? Isn’t it contradiction, when all Verities are on the tightrope and they become acrobats, the origin of truth?
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