Muted

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The voice speaks to me, it is a deep voice. I understand some words and phrases that my brain fashions into patterns, as this is the essence of mankind’s relationship to its languages. Air emanates from the lungs, shaped by the throat and mouth. The human ear receives the sounds for the brain to form into recognizable patterns. The mouth, however, is the most offensive of communicatory vehicles. It transforms language into vulgarity, coarseness. Spit and odor often sour the experience for the listener. I prefer words written rather than spoken. Words on paper written by hands assembling symbols, again, in recognizable patterns, a process much more refined than speaking, much cleaner and more worthy of attention, the written word. For anyone can speak. A newborn begins speaking immediately, incomprehensibly. Unevolved man spoke in grunts and howls. The human being must learn to write legibly and coherently, a person must be taught to build cogent thought. Man can speak of an idea almost as fast as he can think it; writing (and reading, for that matter) take time, an effort required of the communicant.

Is it not the duty of man and woman to think and apply the mind toward some purpose? Is it not our duty to wish to improve the life (and thereby, the ideas) of others? Is there no morality in keeping silent?

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