He sat under the muted lights of his small windowless room typing away at the keys in front of him. There was an electricity the air. Something beyond the parlance of words. Something that was an invisible presence in the room, like the anticipated ring of a stared at phone.
Still he smacked away at the keys hoping in vain that some answer would reveal itself through the symbols that when placed next to one another, constructed larger representations of objects, ideas and emotions on the screen. How, he wondered while pausing for a moment, could these feelings- this mood- transmit itself through the symbols, which when placed together in just the right way, create these larger representations, be interpreted by another soul, a reader?
Who was he writing for anyway? Does the word hold the key to understanding, and furthermore does that understanding mean anything if it is not read by others? Does the world truly fit into this narrow constraint of standardized communication we have constructed for ourselves? Perhaps. Perhaps just the action of doing was enough. Life through Creation, which sprinkled through the creative unconscious could prove to be strong enough to make a dent. If only on the internet. Suddenly he wasn't so alone in that windowless room.
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