Recently I've found myself thinking a lot about the words we speak, our words' weight, and consequence. I am writing a collection of stories, each
rooted in conversation, or absence of conversation, or cessation or intensification or redirection of conversation, often accompanied by surprise at the outcome that results.
Where do the words go
when we have said them?
From “The Small Cabin,†Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems 1965-1975