There is a sound on the air. An echo of words that have never been spoken. Words that bleed into each other, rendering the message indistinct. But if you could hear, you would not believe. Words are so often untrue – representing intentions, perhaps, but not reality. Should I even open my mouth? Certainly, words would escape, spill over, if I did. And some of them would be really true, objectively true, to the entire world. But most of them would be true only for a moment, only to me, and fade out or drop off before they have a chance to become true.