June 29, 2013: This is the voice of my body.
I wonder what my body would say if it could speak. How would it sound? Would it be an artful conversationalist, eloquent in phrasing? Would it take part in witty banter? Would it have an accent? Australian perhaps. Or maybe an Irish brogue. Raspy even.
How wonderful it would be to have the ability to speak through movements, like a lyrical dancer. To move with the rhythm of life. Words would be unneeded. Or art, maybe. The page acting as a welcoming audience. To speak with a sort of grace vacant of language is voice in its most beautiful form, a magic preserved for the gifted.
Unfortunately, my clutzy, jerky body is not cut out for elegant movement. My shaky hands lack the poise to create anything but words. I guess I’ll have to settle for just that: the written language. Though it may not be as visually awe inducing, it is the truest form of expression. With it, I can strive to capture the voice of my body, and an array of other things as well.