High above the base concerns of my soul, soars a cloud of thoughts that clouds my mind. Inside this ephemeral liquid of semiotic form, meaning fluctuates until finally, after countless cycles, it crystallises and imposes itself onto me in cascading lines of life.

The words I say matter no more. Their voicelessness is a veil of fog that refracts my tongue's undulations into sharp shards of pain that imbue my body with sadness and joy and envy and lust.