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I had planned to tell you about how much I love words, but, ironically the words are failing to come. This happens sometimes. A wave of censorship floods over me, and every word I write isn’t the right one, so I keep crossing out and deleting and repeating only to delete again. This has been going on for near almost an hour. Words can’t express how annoying this is.But, seriously though, I do love words. Apparently there are 1,013,913 words in the English language. Will I ever use them all? How many have I used already? The mind boggles, and as a self-confessed word lover, I should be happy about that. Let me tell you, I am not. At this moment in time, my increased awareness of choice only cripples me more. 

I really had planned to tell you about my love of words, but at the moment I don’t love them, or at least they don’t love me. This is the impossibility of the word. As always, thanks to everyone who has helped us put this issue together. It has been a real pleasure.

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The Impossibility of the Word