What did you see? A coastline after a flood? A child’s toy melting on a radiator? A door that has no handle, but is slowly opening?
Go ahead. Make up your own. Guard it. Teach it to someone you love. And when the world demands you speak clearly, speak this instead.
We need more of this. Not answers. Not utility. But phrases that function like keys to rooms that shouldn’t exist. ard-bwrbwynt-jahz-an-flstyn
Jahz. (Breathe through your nose. Let it buzz.)
It is a nonsense word for a nonsensical world. But within that nonsense, a strange order emerges. The flstyn is where you finally stop running. The bwrbwynt is where you learn to dance in the destruction. The jahz is what you play when there is no audience left. Try it. Now. Alone. Or under your breath on a crowded train. What did you see
Flstyn. (Let your tongue go slack at the end. Let it trail into silence.)
And that is precisely why it is sacred.
Bwrbwynt. (Let the wind catch the second syllable. Don’t fight the stumble.)