WORDS!

Certain words, when carefully crafted, can attain a distinctive radiance similar to crystals glimmering like forgotten lights on the beach. Others, while not Gothic, evoke the illuminated windows of some cathedrals. Some words are shrouded in the haze of melancholy. Some say they are born in the solitude of harbours at daybreak. Words are created for love, becoming essential when physical touch is insufficient.

-Rafael Pérez-Estrada:“El Ladrón de Atardeceres”(The Sunsets Thief)

Words often are like a soothing ointment on the wounds of sorrow or as refreshing rain on the desert of mundane anonymity. At times I struggle to grasp the full extent of their concealed meaning; all I know is that they possess the power and the violence of a tropical storm. They can be gentle, warm, comforting, and enchanting, yet also frightening, revolutionary, incendiary, and apocalyptic. They have the ability to exude love or distill venom. They are frequently calm and ominous, like the eye of the storm, foreshadowing the wrath of the hurricane’s trailing edge.                                    

      As I read, I enjoy the way words are arranged, their rhythm, and their inherent musicality. I gently put them on my tongue, allowing them to gradually melt, like a caramel, in a lustful sea of saliva. I experience the effect they cause as they move through my mouth and down to my stomach, leaving an aftertaste that will linger long after the pages have turned yellow.                     

     Once that ritual comes to an end, I invariably reflect about how, just as others collect comics, porcelain figurines, or miniature airplanes, I collect words. I am constantly on the hunt for them, tracking them in antique shops, flea markets, and garage sales. Words attract me like the scintillation of gemstones in a display case, like the captivating call of sirens. Whenever I discover a new one, my heart races, much like the thrill we feel when we fall in love. In that moment, I know I must make it mine, either by purchasing it or shattering the glass and stealing it. 

     Once in possession of them, I carefully organize them on the shelves of my mind and proudly showcase them to my friends like trophies. They occupy my thoughts, spreading through my trachea, my left and right ventricles, my kidneys, and even my navel. They expand my soul and serve as my strongest shield against the dark forces of despair.

     They resemble viral and alien beings that stealthily infiltrate my system, infecting me with a range of afflictions: a longing for adventure, a yearning for other worlds, a wish for alternative lives, minds, and bodies; daydreaming; self-destructing ambitions, like the foolishness of wanting to fight against windmills; and the fever of a trapped spirit, from which there is no escape. 

     Words are my true wealth, my most valued possession, the finest gift one can give. They are my only grace and talent and the strongest aphrodisiac. They shamelessly defile me. Long live microorganisms, viruses, bacteria, germs, microbes, and other pathogenic agents!    

©Translated from the Spanish by William Almonte Jiménez, 2015

© Spanish title: “Palabras”

© William Almonte Jiménez, 2000