Sometimes I wish I remember the time when I didn’t not how to read. The times when I had no words to describe what I saw, what I felt, and even what I was thinking. Everything just was. Words and language are collections of point of views organized and formalized by other humans who came before me in the area I was born in. I was free from those influences.  I know that I had a few early years when everything offered themselves to me with freshness and I was free to approach the world however I wish: if not in action, at least in my thoughts.

Then the words came and I was told the names of the colors and how to express my feelings in the ways that are acceptable to the group of people who surrounded me. My magical  years were over. Although I don’t remember what those first few years were like, I would imagine that those time had significant impact on who I am today. (Or not.) As I was assigned words and traditions to mold me into what is considered acceptable to my people and culture, whatever I was before and wordless undefined memories faded.