Why don’t I feel that language, the spoken and the written word, is as crucial as it used to be? When did language –especially my first- stop feeling special and start looking like piled newspapers; plenty, dusty, and outdated?
For five years, I have been loosing faith – especially in literature! Every now and then, I would try to pick some books in hope of reconnecting, of reawakening the little girl who is welling to see life pass her by as long as she can read & write about it.
But that girl wants something more now. She has a yearning to reach out, to express, to explode, in an extreme that language –her language at least- is simply incapable of.
Desperately, and as if caught right at the end of time, she searches for a medium. Be it humanities, arts, sports, or sciences, enduring the fascination, as well as the horror, that the leap from one faith to another opens beneath her feet.