These people were trying to change the narrative, they felt that using language as their main weapon against language. Language had been used to keep the majority of us hostage for a long time. They were fighting language to save humanity, to bring down the old power structures. To give us freedom.
The words in truth, we never know what they are. We try and pin them down on the page but they dance and change shape, never being peaceful. I try and keep my mind blank as I read through the words, any place where prejudice can creep in it. Tainting what I am reading, with what I already think I know or have been conditioned to think. The words control us, every aspect of our day is controlled by them, we feel we have free will but it is nothing more than illusory.
The room is starting to darken, slowly at first but now providing me with problems reading. I reach over and witch on the light. One fluorescent bulb slowly sputters to life, before bathing the room in its sickly white glow. I can feel my eyes already rejecting this light, not quite believing in its fake daytime glow. Later my head will remind me of this light. The words make sense at one level, all around me the structures are built on words. How can I deconstruct the world without using words, even primal noises will eventually become a form of language. Language will always grow and evolve from sounds.