20/03/26
In languages’ perfection I no longer am between the words spoken to another, we are already found in the sentences written in our head. Here nothing is left unsaid but a lot is when the lines of sentences we hear from each other have become distant. So I find myself speaking more than you would imagine, repeating the same words to others as time has been cut between us.
And as I speak I notice I can’t see my own lips because I have looked to find the words induced by your face. My eyes mistake themselves for lips, anticipating words before they can be said, already having spoken the words yet to come. And words begin to travel in a straight line, following each other consecutively towards me already at the end of the sentence, attempting to use your eyes to watch myself. I thought I could transcend my own words after seeing you, to give them an image of themself by ensuring no word is smothered by the following. So I stamp full stops between each word with my pupils and assign them a definitive destination before leaving. The word however fails end at the full stop, my eyes have rather pushed words themselves off into dissemblance and turned primeval. Words whose edges are ruined, returned to the unheard shapes of sound from which they emerged. In wishing to speak of what has never been heard of, the word is finally seen in its clandestine imperceptibility. I speak to you because my eyes are your ears, your ears are my lips and my lips are your eyes, my words are yours before you could speak.
ARGO 