Tricky words

Lately I have become fascinated with words. As I sat tonight at my adoptive families' house, my mind floated away, as it often does during a fast paced quick moving passionate Hebrew conversation. Especially considering the fact that my Hebrew is still slim to non-existent and I am the clueless girl at the table jumping from face to face helplessly reading everything I can from their expressions and gestures to try to pull some kind of meaning from their words that are so foreign and distant to me. Language is a crazy little thing but I have come to realize that as lost and far away that I sometimes feel, there is a beautiful commonality in people's way of expressing themselves and if you look deeper you can understand their meaning when the words do happen to fall short. Stepping away from my frustrations of my Hebrew or lack thereof I have noticed how much I do enjoy words and the emotions that they can pull as they are twisted and turned.
A book that have been reading soo incredibly slowly because I simply do not want it to end, 'The History of Love' has a part about words that just makes so much sense to me. Some special people in my life right now have been exposing their struggle to express themselves and their feelings. For me this is wild, I feel something and I often want to scream it from the rooftops (which also could be my downfall at times) but I find it so hard for me personally to bottle up my emotions without an instant explosion. Excuse the rambling but to me it's sad, as I have mentioned how beautiful words can be, I find it almost a crime to hold your words in. Here is the excerpt from Nicole Krauss's story...

'So many words get lost. They leave the mouth and loose their courage, wandering aimlessly until they are swept into the gutter like dead leaves. On rainy days you can hear their chorus rushing past: IwasabeautifulgirlPleasedon'tgoItoobeleivemybodyismadeofglassI've
neverlovedanyoneIthinkofmyselfasfunnyForgiveme...
There was a time when it wasn't uncommon to use a piece of string to guide words that otherwise might falter on the way to their destinations. Shy people carried a little bundle of string in their pockets, but people considered loundmouths had no less need for it, since those used to being overheard by everyone were often at a loss for how to make themeselves heard by someone. The physical distance between two people using a string was often small; sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for the string. The practice of attaching cups to the ends of the string came much later. Some say it is related to the irresponsible urge to press shells to our ears, to hear the still-surviving echo of the world's first expression. Others say it was started by a man who held the end of the string that was unraveled across the ocean by a girl who left for America.
When the world grew bigger, and there wasn't enough string to keep the things people wanted to say from disappearing into the vastness, the telephone was invented.
Sometimes, no length of string is long enough to say the thing that needs to be said. In such cases all the string can do, in whatever its form, is conduct a person's silence.'

Tricky little words.

Through rose colored lenses...

I was sitting on the bus the other day and the boy in front of me was taking a picture out the window. From my seat behind him I could see exactly what he saw behind his lense, and then it hit me. I realized why I am so fascinated with photography. For one moment in time everything is frozen. A moment is frozen, a moment that the photographer saw something beautiful. Something worth pushing that button and holding that moment forever. You get to see what strikes others and moves others without any words. Through their eyes, they see something. and the moment I see a picture I think about the thoughts that may have came to mind at the moment the finger is released to hold this image. I feel a bit closer to the person, even a complete stranger. It's similar to the feeling I have when I peek through someone's music. To me this is just as personal as a secret diary. The playlist to our lives; the beats that make us, shake us and break us. They say, when words leave off, music begins...