“Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words!”
Well at least Eliza Doolittle was.
Me, I would be better saying,
“words, words, words, I’m so stuck for words!”
Which for anyone who knows me, must surely be a first.
I LOVE words.
I love working out their origins, the way they look on paper; their shapes and rhythms. And I love the way they can have multiple meanings, depending on context, dependant on the company, the glint in an eye, the emphasis on a syllable, the quickness of response, the back and forth.
Words can bind or divide with such ease and speed they become almost the most powerful tool available to us mere mortals.
But I digress –
words, they confuse, confound and cause all sorts of meanderings.
Like our meander into Glenorchy Back Country, South Island, New Zealand.
And for those who don’t know where New Zealand is, the bottom of the planet, almost in the Pacific Ocean. I think God created the world from the top and as he moved down, his artistry became more and more breathtaking; his masterpiece complete at Glenorchy.
And that’s the point – this trip was SO amazing,
So breathtakingly beautiful.
So filled with laughter and energy and love and caring and support that
WORDS FAIL ME!!!!!
No really, they do.
From our first meeting for a drink, which ended up including a dinner, we knew we were in a special place, where like minded people understood the words spoken, the words unspoken, the meanings behind them. People who immediately saw the laughter in an eye, or the nervous hesitation in the curve of a mouth.