How language works

CRYSTAL BALL

Always breaking. You cry out loud and realize, after all, that it was not a question of volume. Nothing that you didn’t know. Arms up, you move in circles, dizzy, weren’t you supposed to go on the other direction? Maybe it is not you the one that is moving but the crystal ball around you. The ball protecting you and yet preventing you from growing, from moving. That ball that keeps you up and down and apart from the outside world and that prevents those words from coming out. A strong and resistant barrier mind you, those things that you had to say, remember? They’d rather stay well inside, we don’t want the ball to break and have pieces of glass all over. On the clean floor.
There’s this words that are said, and yet they get back to you after rebounding on your sphere. Altered.
Speak it, pretend it, lie it. I don’t believe you.

CRYSTAL ISLES

Always communicating. You cry out loud and realize, after all, that it was not a question of space. We are, after all, communication isles. The more you know about language, the less you communicate. A finely-woben world of your own. The threads, your words. Or were they mine? Little funny crystal balls one after the other, very near, trying to convey meaning through words and rarely being succesful in doing so. Put two crystal balls together, two crystal balls like two people talking, and see that the first ball’s words will not reach the second ball, good quality crystal. Each ball, mind you, each ball has ist own world, a world of meaning and relevance and dreams and mind of its own. Use a word many times and you’ll see how it loses ist common meaning and acquires a brand new refreshing one. One of your own. Noone can steal it from you and yet you cannot make youself understood through it, so yours that it is. And yet you know I am talking to you, so it might also be mine, this world of yours.
There’s this wordy world of your own that is preventing me from reading your mind. On the crystal.
Speak it, mean it, pamper it. Mouth shut. Those meanings are only yours.

CRYSTAL BUBBLE

Always meaning. Trying to convey sense. You cry out loud and realize, after all, that it was not a question of time. Of tempo. But of saying. The meant and the said. All what you didn’t know, now in a crystal bubble. Don’t you dare remove it too much, not that the content spills all over and you need to face it. Wanting to say and not being able to, all the things that you were looking for, now in a new appealing format. Magic touch. I refuse to believe that there’s a difference between the said and the meant, what kind of an economic language would it be if one had to waste time guessing? Guessing, my dear, is the meaning of words, meaning within space, the meaning of time, so far away that it is. Don’t say it if you mean it, just cry out loud.
There’s these things that I meant to say, remember? All those things that I didn’t mean in your world of mine in the speechless mindless wordless meaningless unheard.
Speak it, mean it, pamper it. For it makes sense:

Six forty-five.