It blinks. Keeps blinking even as it moves and leaves a trail of characters behind. It is a stalwart figure. It blinks with a purpose. It taunts too. Each wink is a promise of a coming word, an approaching thought... a hopeful insight. Whether or not an arrival comes, it still maintains a confident uprightness. It holds the upper hand without arrogance, just a simple understanding of its power.
I can't tell whether or not I like it or hate it. Do I like it because of its beholden promise? Do I appreciate that my hands provide it with at least some of the power it wields? Or do I despise its inability to communicate those ideas to me and assist me in my own attempts to communicate them myself?
Of course I miss the point. Its power is entirely my power and its silence is a sign of my own incapacity to wield that power. The curse is self-inflicted.
Time to lift that fucker.
