you announce yourself eloquently with assurance and ease. a permanent smile, never awkward. phrase complete with unbroken, untouched, unblemished semiotics. with your perfection you can love and speak of souls.
but you can’t claim all languages are the same when you’re still trying to figure one out. note how your tongue wraps itself around syllables as you glide into another language; your skin speaks new phrases, such sweet sweet broken phrases. only with imperfection can you speak to souls.