No Image

I wish I were a dictionary.

I think it would be neat to be a dictionary. I saw a dictionary in Brentano’s once, it was twenty-six volumes long. It took up an entire wall. I think I tried to look up a word or something, to see what it was like. I got confused. It felt like I was under an ocean, like under the Pacific, where it’s not as scary.

It would be nice for humanity if when you were born your parents gave you a dictionary. Except they had to put their stamp on it. In order to do that they had to mix up everything in the dictionary so nothing followed the alphabetical order. Then they’d have to talk like that, all weird, for three years or something until you became four. Then there would be poetry everywhere.

Or imagine if we took all the words in the dictionary and cut them out and put them in a pile and let the wind, one day, blow them away somewhere. That would be neat. When we collected them again, all over the desert or something, we would put them together in whatever order we found them, making new words with new definitions, meanings.

That might make the world look a little different.