A soul is a word in the sense of native speech. It is of us and from us; when we speak we produce words unique to ourselves and in the moment, but also not wholly invented by any one of us alone (if wholly invented, it isn’t a word; a word is elementally share-able/co-produced – the sharing is the purpose of the word). We absent ourselves form ourselves, creating a vehicle for memory but abject in time, floating in a usable-eternal (durable, effective, reflective). So we reveal ourselves by entering a space of estrangement. A word is the silence of the person; a word leaves our separate experience to afford plural experience, in the carapace of language – which is built to sometimes incite but always to transfer experience (a phrase-made-fetish is a cliché – the nemesis of meaning).


It is possible to use language as a means of self-absenting – for the purpose of finding silence. In fact, we are not using language is we are not moving into silence – we are only decorating our coffins from the inside, unaware of available freedoms from time.

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