I tried changing the batteries on the word SORRY today, rubbed the terminals clean of the caustic build-up from the power source that used to run it, until it ran it dry. My neighbours only know me by shadow or consequence. I said THANK YOU to a shopkeeper yesterday and was ejected from the store. Choosing your words is almost an occupational hazard in this society of scrabbled language. I can’t talk to you because our computers are not compatible and our songlines aren’t in tune. You’re not welcome to knock on my door to see if I’m ok or if I’d like to come over for a drink until you befriend me in the vortex of cyberspace. Our own digital footprints put fear in our systems, syntax error, syntax error, syntax error…a new dictionary of linguistic abuse has arisen from the era of Terror. I’ve forgotten how to have a conversation without editing myself or censoring my desire to communicate. Please contact me on a secure line as my feelings may incriminate me and some of my thoughts may be illegal. Freedom is a word that I’ve bought with a mortgage and am paying heavily for. How will the history of this time be written, when some words no longer work?

A fly in the ointment,
quid pro quo and excuses,
not a time for tongues…