“A sound waiting to be a word.”
“I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of the hunger for life that gnaws in us all.”
“Wait, what's that sound? Oh yes, it’s you, sounding ridiculous.”
“It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.”
“How lovely it is that there are words and sounds. Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart?”
“There is a sound to waiting. It sounds like held breath pounding its fists against the walls of the lung, damp and muffled beats.”