At times words are traps… they spin in your head weaving a web of insanity wrapping you up into a deadly cocoon. The worst is when they can’t even escape, except on paper or web, your voice deprived of the intended audience. The sound is not of silence, it is of the madness you are forced to carry, the interpretation, the un-trust, the fear of oneself, the lie, the lack of respect; a wide range of emotions as awkward as an ill-fitted coat… and a very heavy ill-fitted coat weighting down any of your actions with chains… chains incorrectly labelled as long as your voice stays a ghost I know the pain has two sides, the deception and the humanity. For nothing else would I swap the pain this evening. Behind it is the strength of the emotions I can carry, the strength of my convictions, the strength of the effort I can shoulder to remain true to my philosophy of life.
A Fish on a Hill 