tap tap tap. One sentence about the conquistadors, one sentence about the necessity of language to communicate, one sentence about sharing ideas and form a cultural identity.
TAP TAP TAP. I pound out a slammed sentence of strung together consciousness, an episode of Tourette’s amidst a carefully formed analysis. A dialogue forms on my paper, between active voice and stunned listener. One only gets a word in edgewise, the other dominates.
highlight. delete. the slam disappears like it was never there. I try not to notice the irony of writing about communication when it’s the one thing we’re not doing.