Authora Nil

The writer. A great disk jockey of words. Phrases demonstrated which become nothing more than an aggregation of meaning. These instances are not univocal. One meaning cannot be pulled from written text or even orally. Language is a nexus of various thoughts and ideas arranged to give impressions.  Butterfly came stirring rack nonexistent habitat.  Language is the biggest rip off in the history of mankind.  On one side of the earth, that person uttered the syllables that identify common knowledge about what a particular item is.  Right now I type on a laptop.  If I were to close the screen, remove the cleaver from my knife block, and mince garlic, I now have a cutting board.  My neighbor throws a rock but I lift up my shield to protect myself from the projectile.  Now it’s a coaster.  Then it’s a door stop.  What is the true purpose of this object?  Are the actions I’ve performed with my laptop against the rules of what computers should do?  Who decides what rules govern my use of the computer?  The limits of the ability of a resource to perform in different ways are endless.  Words are performers.  Words are catalysts.  Within a word, there is no origin, no author, only a commonality.  A community of agreed denotation and inferred connotation.  What you call the world, I call an endless entropy of chaos which knows no axioms but only eternal proliferation.  Language, life, our nexus.