Words are similar to a butterfly. They fly around us. We add meaning to them. We reproduce a new meaning from each of them. We fit tons of joys or sorrow to words. They are so delicate like butterflies and they have a short lifetime there.
Sometimes words are similar to stones. They are heavy and they kill. They are always immortals. They affect us with spoken more than the meanings. They are sometimes a gift or punishment for us.
Words, words...
