One cannot hope to acquire all of language, not even one’s own.
Language pulls, turns, seduces us with its majesty but we will never possess it,
just like how I will never possess you. No one can have anyone. To desire is to want is to dream of possession, which is simply that – a dream.
We are all dreaming but we’ll wake up.
Absorbed, spun, I must accept I will never know it all in this language that serves me and allows me to dream: that one day it will not be so. The dream of living, of desire, is no more real than anything or anyone. I could be anyone and it would make no difference. I am no more real than a puppet. If you can hear me, do I exist? Did you ever exist? Or was it simply a mirage, like dreams, like possession, like life.