Where titles are not titles and words are mere words; where a flower is not a flower and the rain is a tree. The fallibility of words, the instability of language. I understand you, and you to me because of a shared understanding and agreement on the concept of a certain word- this word that is formed by a simple organization and arbitrary choice of alphabets out of 27. We put them together and contort our tongues to roll out a sound. This sound becomes a word, this word a meaning. And words (besides alcohol) are social buffers by which we polish relations and up our friend count. Summation: You'd better know your alphabets.
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