Names are important. I know this because everything has one. At least one. Most things have more than one. Some things have many. The more names something has, the more complex it is. My name is Francine. Most everyone calls me Franky. When I was little and my mom was mad at me, she called me Francine Joanne. I earned the name Sparky among some of my friends by electrocuting myself when we were tinkering with a computer we were building. My brother calls me sis, but not as often as he calls me doofus. It has really become a term of endearment. I call him doofus sometimes too.
Naming is an important way of communicating. You see, everyone can have a different name for the same thing. And what you call something can say a lot about both you and the thing you are referring to. Names don’t necessarily have to identify the thing they refer to. Names can describe. Beautiful, grotesque, intense, mild. All of these and more can be names. Anything can be a name, so long as it can be said. Names are not bound by part of speech or correct grammar. I found myself looking through the fireworks
at the smoke they left behind. After the prideful colors faded and the sententious bang echoed away the wisps haunted the fairgrounds like the ghost of what never was. And I wondered why I took so long to smell it. |
Editorial Staff
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