I have to give you a poem. I just read Bernard Marie Koltès’ In the Solitude of Cotton Fields.
"After Bernard Marie Koltès" one thing we know: language is power. us men are always hiding in the curves of words. we get worried about how we feel because someone said we were born beasts and chickens. us men need language to offer any of our goods. language is the only thing for sale and worth buying. how much would you pay to be brave for a day? it costs us more to be brave at night. us men need poetry because we are cold and only music keeps us safe. rarely are we ever honest.