I love language. I adore the sound of it, the variety, the archaeology inherent in the history of words. I like its curlicues and marble arches of sound. Sometimes language makes me dance with the pure beauty of it, singing to me over centuries with all the grace and wry delight an author intended long before his death. I am tickled that to speak in French I must pout my mouth and shrug, and that the act of saying a few phrases sends me into a completely different frame of mind. How exciting that our cultural attitudes are encoded in our phonemes, just as our red hair or almond eyes are encoded in our genes.
I have a client at the moment who is completely new to the idea of language as ecstasy. I strongly believe we will never be truly skilled at something unless we adore it and can find the bliss inside its pursuit. I am now charged with communicating my passion for sounds and language and writing in a way that he will understand. In the process I am discovering my own passion once again.
To me writing is a lot like sculpture. The sounds are shapes, and the creation of a phrase is like carving out a new being, unique in all the world. To link these phrases together piece to piece is the beginning of an elaborate architecture. To build a cogent argument out of long boards and planed bricks is to discover clarity out of chaos, and we all breathe a sigh of relief when we can see that the floor supports us and the walls can stand. We can finally climb the stairs and see the outline of the cathedral in the distance, whereas for so long we have only heard the bells. The marble angels carved out of the fountain stone can finally sing and their song is heard by passersby miles away on the other side of town and time.
This is the thrill of creation and communication, all made possible with words.
Notre Dame De Paris 1 Temps de Catedrali High Quality – YouTube.
Mysterious Artemis 