If you cannot forget of your
college teachers for the way in which they explained each subject, because the
word itself opened you to inner doors that, by the way, are a bit rusty lately; if you miss that forced
reading that finished, in the end, getting into your bones as if it were part of you; if you continue doing crosswords when the
time allows it and it hurts something inside whenever you see an orthographic mistake in a stuck poster of a store or simply you thank God to a conversation where more than one hundred different words are
used ; if you are professor of any
language, father or mother of adolescents, or a simple lover of the reading and attend, with pain, amazement and astonishment at the same time, to the destruction and/or radical
change of the street language on the part of youngest…
You will guess how far you will be able to see in coming years, why it surprised you when you were just an spectator back in college, what there is behind and what in front of the word, how long lasted into the hands of wise people, of the rich and the slave.
It will take you so far from your tongue as near into your entrails, it will make you travel in time and it will continue showing you in each page that the true value of a word, is in history, the silence that causes while it is pronounced, crosses the years and the circumstances and settle again in another ear, in another paper, for benefit of whoever love the abstract and little valued geniuses, as the language is. There is nothing in the world that is more used, more mixed, posed, and broken and whose only complaint is more beautiful: the change. It changes to please, it remains because you use it and disappears when it sees that it exceeds. It does not request explanations, it gives thousands of opportunities, it is let abuse, it does not understand of ethnic groups. It is satisfied to live in your mouth, your hand, your soul.
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