The Stuff That Gets Whispered in My Ear
Or, Mona's Poetry Word of the Day -- Fear.
So in terms of words, what is it that makes life good; nouns or adjectives? The thing itself, or its attributes? Do we love a peach, or do we love its 'sweet', its 'juicy', its 'fuzzy'? Would we still love coffee apart from its 'black', its 'robust' its 'rich'? Would we understand 'sweet' without the context of a peach? What about a wound? We'd certainly enjoy it more without 'painful', 'deep', 'fatal'. But can you imagine the thought of 'seeping' or 'septic' unmoored from context, and how frightening that might be?
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He'd had a life without her, before her of course. Billions of years of it. Most you wouldn't understand, most he never thought about, even though he could bring up any day he wanted and examine it in perfect clarity, like retrieving a diamond from a deep well. He kept his thoughts to current events; the last six thousand years or so.