We compare. No matter how much we read or how good we want to be, we compare. We compare that friend who interrupts our conversation on every single word to the friend who prizes every word we speak. Great conversation is what we compare the most. Conversation is wine. A delicacy. A power. A memory. It is hallucinogenic and having gone through the best one is like wearing a crown, you own it, we own our words and the exchange that we’ve had and so letting go is not an option anymore.
Good conversation is the big bang; where two continents collide and the echo is the bestseller in the clouds. The universe is dancing and two continents become one. The bar is set high. We become possessive.
Good conversation is Edward Munch’s scream. He said “I was tired and ill – I stood looking out across the fjord – the sun was setting –the clouds were colored red – like blood – I felt as though a scream went through nature – I thought I heard a scream – I painted this picture – painted the clouds like real blood. The colors were screaming.”
It is undying respect, almost like a sacred pact for each other’s screams, silences and everything in-between.
Edward Munch’s quote;
Hughes Robert shock of the new Alfred A. Knopf, INC, FEB 6 1981
sjraja 