I love language.
That might have come across somewhat in my last drabble, “Sonder.” I find language fascinating, in part because it’s continuously changing. I love slang and vernacular and punctuation not because they’re hard and fast rules, but because a simple change (the way that this seNTENCE SUDDENLY SHIFTING INTO CAPITALS has the connotation of rising enthusiasm, for instance) can mean a change in tone without us ever being taught that in school.
Language is at its most interesting when it’s evolving. While I wouldn’t say I worship language, I do have a fascination with it–hence this week’s drabble, “Grammatolatry.”
(noun: from Greek grammato for letters or words and lotry for worship)
the worship of letters or words
The temples were hushed. The priest’s throats were coated with honey and oil, lips colored with gold leaf, eyes framed with kohl. Strains of distant music—flutes, drums—floated in on the warm breeze, but there was no sound of laughter, no singing, no speech. A bee buzzed in a priest’s ear and he batted it away with his hand. The villagers filed in, taking seats on stone benches, holding hands and waving fat leaves to cool themselves. The priest stepped up to the altar and all movement ceased—a hush fell over the room in anticipation of the Word.