Found in Translation

We fire out strings of words, hoping that the other person’s reality will allow their mind to somehow replicate ours and it will be a somewhat successful communication.

Certain words aligned in a certain way can make someone laugh or cry.

The worst is the words that are never spoken, as one person dies of eager anticipation and the other of coward hesitation.

We are the only species that understand and be understood in words which I find creepy.

If nobody said/posted a word ever again, if there were no books to read, no news to hear, no blogs to write, would the world be a silent prison? Would people pull their hair off in despair, set things on fire, run around hysterically, dying to express what they had to say?

I am amazed at the abundance of vocabulary in English compared to let’s say Turkish, or Arabic.

I often wonder if us middle eastern people are (stereotypically) short tempered because we can never quite express subjective, abstract, deeper thoughts so we end up with too many misunderstandings or disagreements.

Ironically, we are more likely to have big families, form ghettos, jump in the bandwagon of extreme thoughts and drag each other along.

What the fuck is wrong with us?

Words limit our relevance to and our relationship with the universe to our relevance to and relationship with other people. I understand why Buddhists observe periods of silence, which they explain as “Abandoning the world of words and embracing the world of thoughts”.

I highly recommend this, even for a day.


Because my heart is broken.

Because words have taken me over.

Because I did not hear the words I was meant to hear.




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