Literature is what created life, my friend. Words, thoughts. Have you ever noticed that you think? Your mind is full of words right now. Everything is a word. There is a word for everything. Bear. L’esprit de l’escalier. We are built of words, we are built of art. We find a longing to live in the art, to create our own stories. Do you not understand that our entire life is a story, one little blink in the scheme of everything describable? Do you understand that I could, if I honestly wanted to, describe my entire life in minute details if I really wanted to? If it exists in life, there is a way to explain it in words. Haven’t you ever said something to someone and used an interesting image to get your point across?
Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but every memory I describe, every poem or story I remember is the brightest possible. Life and art go hand in hand, there is a possibility to live without art, but you will be unfulfilled, you will never truly exist as you are supposed to. The colors that cascade through our minds when we read a sharply beautiful piece of literature… those are all from life, it is all captured by words.
Words fade, yes. Life fades as well. Look, no one could describe everything flawlessly. That’s why they’re artists, they describe as they’ve wanted, as a creative endeavor to explain life, because that’s what life is for. to be lived and shown. To live, and create.
Welcome to the real world, kid. It’s made of art.
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