It is sad when only silence will suffice but too weak for silence one settles for words’ shapes and clods.

Maybe it is music I am missing, that gives me this sense of form-induced inadequacy.

Such a lucky, evening, really: I am told I pronounce “Angela” like a native Spaniard, and what else does one need but to correctly utter the names of angels, so what does it matter if I do not understand a word. Cloaked in a good pronunciation I will proceed and to hell with knowing which only makes me wish I had not.
ha-HA!