What a strange process it was, from the first person who wanted to give a name to the flight of the butterfly, until at the end there was „fluttering“.
It probably began with a sound, a sound that described the butterfly’s hectic wing beat, a sound that described the butterfly standing restlessly in the air, just as restless, just as unstable.
What a moment of observation it was, so that the word
„born“ could be „born“? What kind of inner silence, what kind of contemplation, to get involved with the creature, its being, its movement, was necessary for this?
What was the intention behind naming the process? The joy in the beauty of the movement? The joy of observation? The need to capture transient beauty, a moment?
What bridges did this first sound cross until it set the impulse in a language to turn the sound into a word. What innumerable ways did
he it take to realize himself itself until he it ended up in fluttering.
How right and appropriate does the sound seem to us, who have learned to use the word naturally? But how limited is this thought, since every language has its own „flutter“, which seems appropriate.
„A white butterfly has just fluttered past the purple dream catcher blossoms.“
Every word in this sentence has a similar long complex story behind it, so I can form this sentence.
Comes from a wordless consciousness that wanted to signify the world around it, that wanted to escape the prison of its own thoughts…
Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Hinweis: Nachträgliche Korrekturen durch Streichung und Blockschrift.
Note: Subsequent corrections by deletion and block capitals.