We’re often unable to say the important things, our heart-felt truths, our wants and desires, our irks and vexations, especially when we’re doing our damndest to express ourselves. We know what we’d like to say, lucidly, yet bringing it out is a horrendous struggle. We hem and we haw, and uhm and erm, and we hope that the people we’re talking to will understand, that they have to understand, otherwise we’ll never be heard. We hope that since we speak to them, if one can call it that, we won’t have to explain and run ourselves hoarse, that in those few words and between the silences where we wait for our light to shine through, we will be grasped and appreciated. And, that beneath the silence, our stories can be heard even by one person, clearly, as if we were reciting them without any inhibitions, the way we imagine we would if we were bolder and better. Sometimes, this one person makes the hemming and hawing, and uhming and erming worth it, and with them we’re never afraid that our words have failed, that we can speak to them in silence, that with them words lose meaning, their silence is understanding and complete acceptance.