Once upon a time I decided to listen, and not speak any more. The more I listened, the less I could feel letters form on top of my tongue. It was a new habit, a possible runaway from myself, the infinite talker, and from the scary idea that I could be in love. So I wrote poems, made phonecalls, asked strangers, bartenders and writers I met what to do when what you're feeling is something you can no longer contain. Nobody seemed to know, and the answer came by itself, making letters form into words again on top of my tongue, ironically, while I was blowing some guy.