“And just like that, the fistful of words, the ones you let go all those years ago, they come sliding back to you from over the horizon. The words are covered in moss and tattered at the edges. They are barely recognizable. A few of them have broken down into even smaller words. The others have dissolved into little more than phonemes and indecipherable bits of data.
When you hold them up to the light they are opaque and don’t reveal any of their secrets.
Most of the words just sit there, dull, listless and occasionally slipping out from behind your lips.
A few of them however resist easy categorization. They pursue you in your dreams and hunt you while you sleep. These extraordinary words have somehow managed to escape the tethers of their Latinate roots.
These words have come back in the form of a mythical bird that wears the emblem of immortality and reborn idealism…”